


she put the stars in the sky

by sybilluv



Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Panam Palmer, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Humor, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, WIP, Warnings May Change, corporate V, we make our own edits in this house
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:15:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29100126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sybilluv/pseuds/sybilluv
Summary: “Arasaka destroyed me in ways I’ve never spoken aloud, probably never will. They took me and shattered who I was into pieces, forced me to fit into the mold of what they needed of me, and I complied. For eight years, I let myself hurt. Drown in anguish, in regret of the things they made me do. When I… left, I didn’t know what to do, who I was supposed to be. I was lost, even with Jackie guiding me through gigs. Eventually I was able to put some of the pieces back together.” V falters, voice cracks.Then, so softly she speaks again, “You’ve managed to do something that I haven’t been able to do for the past two years. You make me feel whole again.”ORIn a timeline where the Konpeki Plaza heist was a success (Inspiration from user CattyJay) and no one died, V still decides to join the Aldecaldos thanks to a certain Panam Palmer. Feelings flourish in the massive expanse of the desert, and someone falls in love. Unfortunately, good things in NUSA oft go awry.
Relationships: Panam Palmer/Female V
Comments: 31
Kudos: 183





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I usually have spastic updates when it comes to fics, and this is turning out to be a long-ish one. I'll try to update weekly, because I'm really excited about where this story is headed. I fell in love with Panam's character when I first met her in my first playthrough as female V, and I was so upset that I couldn't romance her that I changed to a male character just so she could be the first character I romanced. I love Judy too, but that'll probably be a different fic (and I'm obsessed with chaoticspaces' fic, freedom rider).
> 
> Any and all mistakes are my own (one of my biggest troubles is keeping with proper tenses, I try to fix all of the ones I can find but I'll definitely miss a few), and if I have dialogue in a different language, it's no one's fault but my own if the wording is off or I use the wrong phrase for the wrong situation.

There’s something about Panam that draws V in. If V sees her anywhere in her line of vision— Aldecaldo jacket, dreads tied up, hardened brown eyes that soften with _something_ when their gazes lock— then she always drifts towards Panam. Always, _always,_ no matter what she’s doing. No matter how much she tries to distract herself, gravity always leads her to Panam Palmer.

They find each other after long days of work— Panam as chief of the tribe alongside Saul, V running errands for the other nomads because it’s in her nature to help them. She mostly does recon, since the cybernetic implants she has are _made_ for it. She is a whirlwind, the sandstorm of the Aldecaldos.

(Saul once mentioned that she was the _haboob_ of the tribe. Panam had inhaled her beer and choked, because it was an inside joke between her and V after they’d weathered their first sandstorm together.)

But jokes aside, she wreaks havoc on those who dare attack the tribe— her _family,_ she has to remind herself. Her people, who would do anything for her, and she would do the same for them. Everything and more for them, for Saul, for Mitch, for Scorpion, for—

_—a late night spent underneath the stars, sprawled in the bed of Panam’s truck. Beer in one hand, V’s hand in the other, Panam guides her index finger to constellations, names of the stars; nights in the Badlands were cold but with Panam’s thigh brushing her own, it’s so warm, so perfect and—_

—and maybe there’s a _slight_ problem with how much of a distraction Panam is to V. 

It started to be a noticeable issue when Panam was in an important meeting with Saul, hands resting on a giant map of the country as they planned their route for the following months. 

V would be talking to Scorpion, helping Carol with her equipment, but her sentences would always trail off, her gait would slow to watch Panam’s intense focus: Her eyebrows knit in concentration, fingers trailing across certain routes then looking up at Saul to discuss a hypothetical plan. Lips forming a scowl when Saul starts to deny her, saying “such-and-such” is too risky. Arms crossing, cocking one hip, raising one eyebrow.

Then V would remember that her job isn’t to stare at their tribe’s female chief, and she picks up the pace, tries to remember what she said before she got lost in the quicksand that is Panam Palmer. She always plays it off, pretends that she was never looking, lies and says that she’s trying to figure out the route they’re working out before they inform the rest of the tribe.

The group of vets always see through her bullshit, though. V’s corporate tricks never work on them, and it’s annoying in a harmless way. She’s never truly aggravated by their poking and prodding, their teasing, because what she feels for Panam is a platonic adoration. 

Because Panam is gorgeous, and V isn’t blind. 

(And maybe it’s because V doesn’t know what true love feels like. Working for Arasaka blurred the lines, muted those emotions because _real_ feelings meant danger, meant that she was risking more than she was supposed to. So she put all of those feelings into a neat box and locked it away into the deepest recesses of her mind, separating pleasure from every aspect of her life because business was closely related to fucking the people that Jenkins sent her after.)

Not that V is bad-looking. But Panam is breath-taking. 

One moment she remembers so vividly is the sunrise after their first sandstorm. Panam sitting on the steps of the “motel,” features highlighted by the golden rays of the sun peeking over the horizon. Her eyes remind V of warm coffee on slow mornings, the rich earth in the forests that still remained, resilient and resistant to the abuse that the world continues to throw at them. Deep brown eyes that V has lost herself in so many times that she’s lost count.

That morning, when V opened the door to the outside world and saw Panam, time slowed. Then her foot creaked against the floorboards of the porch, and the moment left as quickly as it came, Panam turning to greet V with a small smile.

_“Hey.” Her voice is warm, still rough from sleep, “Did you sleep alright?”_

_A puff of laughter slips from V’s lips as she sits down next to Panam, “Would’ve been better if I’d been completely horizontal. Got a crick in my neck that probably won’t go away for another hour or so,” she sighs, rubbing at her neck with a small frown. Then she nudges Panam’s knee with her own. “How about you?”_

_One corner of her lips quirk up as she gives V a smirk, “I slept like a puppy. That’s a cozy shoulder you have there.” As if to elaborate her point, she rests her head on V’s shoulder again. Then the warmth sobers into something sadder, and she pulls away. “It’s too bad I better get rolling in a minute.”_

_“I thought you were staying with the Aldecaldos?” V inquires, noting how Panam falters, breath hitches, and her leg starts to bounce on the steps. “Panam, you’re better off if you stay with them. They’re your…” V pauses, mulls the unfamiliar word over in her mind, wondering if it’s the right thing to say. “They’re your family. And they still consider you one of their own, don’t they?”_

_“Of course they do,” Panam breaths, admits it with the smallest slouch of her shoulders. “And they’re still my family, too.”_

_“If that’s the case, then—” V freezes mid-sentence when Panam shakes her head. “Alright. I won’t pretend that I understand, but… if you do want to talk about it, I’ll always be a call or text away, partner.”_

_That gets a smile, a chuckle, before Panam pushes herself off of the porch, and V follows her to her motorcycle. Before she drives away, she pulls V into a tight hug, mutters a quiet but heartfelt, “Thank you,” before pulling away, throwing one leg over the seat of her bike. “And remember— I’m indebted.”_

_“I’ll keep it in mind the next time I need a drinking buddy,” V replies over the hum of the motorcycle, giving Panam a two-finger salute before watching her drive away._

It was a sweet moment to reminisce, a little over a year later. V wouldn’t have guessed that she would ride with the Aldecaldos only a few months after that, wanting to leave Night City behind, if only temporarily. Maybe permanently. She wanted to feel the freedom that Judy had when she left to go to her grandparents in Oregon, the years of stress and turmoil lifted from her features. She was even happier when she managed to convince Evelyn to go with her, and now the two of them were happy and travelling the country in their van, sending V the occasional picture update, video, or text.

Jackie supports V's joining the Aldecaldos to the max, but he didn’t want to leave Misty behind in the city. So V left with the promise to call him every week, send him pictures and complain about whatever she wanted to him. And she’s kept on top of that promise.

He’s always excited to hear about V’s adventures with the Aldecaldo tribe, though more often than not, they were mundane. Lots of driving, lots of desert, lots of sleeping in her Javelina and pitching tents. Regardless of what she tells Jackie, he always listens intently, asking questions of his own that V always answers.

Until.

“So, you and Panam together yet?” Jackie asks, so nonchalantly that it takes V a moment to do a double-take, choking on the air she’s breathing, sputtering into a coughing fit. He thinks it’s the funniest shit in the world, cackling and grinning while V remembers how to breathe, because Panam isn’t parked too far from where her Javelina is.

She gives Jackie a half-glare over the holo, shoving her hand in her jacket pocket— _her_ Aldecaldo jacket, she thinks fondly— to grab a cigarette from her pack and light it. “We’re just chooms, Jackie. I don’t like her like that.”

Jackie snorts at that, rolling his eyes. _“Sure_ you don’t, V. I’ve known you for, what, since you were a _baby,_ and you think I don’t notice how doe-eyed you get when she’s near? How soft you get when you talk about her?”

V takes a long drag of her cigarette, eyes landing on Panam, who’s discussing something with Mitch, chin jutting to the Basilisk. She rolls her eyes at something Mitch says, shakes her head, then she catches V looking at her. Panam softens slightly, gives V a warm look. A fond smile, a wave, then she returns her attention to Mitch.

_“Ay,_ I bet I can guess who you just looked at based off of that one interaction,” Jackie drawls over the holo, and V looks away from Panam, a concoction of embarrassment and confusion twisting her gut. She takes another pull of her cigarette, hoping that it ails whatever feelings are churning, squeezing her insides.

“I don’t—” she cuts herself off, sighing, cigarette smoke flying outward at her exasperated breath. It curls upward after a moment, then V remembers how Panam doesn’t like it when V smells of tobacco and groans, because _why does it matter what she thinks?_

Then, after a beat, V takes the cigarette from her lips and drops it to the ground, crushing it under the sole of her foot. “Ah, I don’t know. She’s— she’s… far.”

“Far?” Jackie questions, voice devoid of mocking, of sarcasm. He wants to understand, and V does too. “What’s that mean, _chica?”_

“I guess she’s like... the sun. I’ve learned to appreciate the stars more because of her,” V blurted, blood already rushing to her cheeks, “Since constellations are important for travelling, especially when you’re a nomad. But Panam is like the sun, to me. I’ve gotten used to being under the sun after so long, but its beauty has never lost its luster. Sunsets, sunrises. The rays peeking through the clouds after a day of rain. Sometimes it's frustrating, when it’s so bright and blinding that it burns, but it’s always beautiful. The stars are always beautiful.” _She’s always beautiful._

V starts to tap her foot against the sand, and with every second that passes, she realizes that what she feels for Panam isn’t actually platonic adoration, and she’s—

_—glass bottles clinking, the distant crackle of a campfire and someone playing the guitar. The sun is slowly dipping below the horizon, and V is far from camp, watching from a cliff that she’d climbed because sometimes, she just needs to get away, have time to herself. Even after months riding with the Aldecaldos, she still doesn’t feel right. A puzzle piece forced into a spot that it doesn’t belong, never will belong, the corners bending, edges splitting._

_Laughter echoes through the desert and up to V, and she slumps, resting her elbows on her knees, face in her hands. She doesn’t feel at home, isn’t comfortable. Feels like everything is going to fall apart, fragile as glass, and she won’t be able to do a thing about it._

_And maybe it’s because she’s not used to living on the road. She’s a city-dweller through and through, so of course the abrupt switch to the life of a nomad isn’t one that she falls into. Of course it isn’t— corporate life is the complete opposite of dusty dunes, sleeping in a stiff cot, passing out in her car after a long day of helping the tribe._

_This is the second time she’s had to adapt to a different life path. The first was when Arasaka dropped her and she began her life as a mercenary, a solo. Now, she’s floundering again, a baby learning how to walk. She’d expected it to be freeing, and it is, in ways. Other times, she finds herself in this position, far away, thinking. Losing herself in her thoughts._

_Crunch goes the sand, and V jumps up, head twisting to see who or what was approaching her, hand immediately wrapping around her revolver—_

— _not_ in love.

“I can’t,” V exhales, hanging her head. “Can’t do that to her when she’s already got so much on her plate, Jackie. She’s chief of the clan, and— and I really don’t think she’s interested.”

“V.” Jackie brings her back from spiraling into _something_ , “you used to be cold, you know. Lukewarm, to me. Once you started workin’ for ‘Saka, you changed a whole lot. And it wasn’t in a good way. You stopped talkin’, dropped off the radar a couple o’ times. Bein’ a corpo-rat drained the life from you. Took your _soul._

“Turning to solo work helped get some of your spark back, but nothing brightened your flame like Panam did. She had an immediate effect on you, _chica,_ whether you want to admit it or not. I can see it.” Jackie smiles, and V sees the resemblance to Mama Welles and her “I’m proud of you” smile. It makes a lump form in V’s throat.

She wants to admit it. Nothing is stopping her but herself, but fear—

_—Panam lifts her hands, stops her advance for V to recognize just who she was about to point her gun at. Once the fog clears and she sees Panam, her breath hitches in her chest, hand flies away from the handle of her revolver like it burned her._

_“Pan,” she breathes, the nickname spilling so naturally from her lips. V looks away, ashamed, roiling with a nauseous mixture of emotions. “You, uh. Scared me.”_

_“No shit,” Panam huffs, plopping herself next to V. Silence grows between them, interrupted by raucous, roaring laughter from the Aldecaldo camp below._

_“Talk to me.”_

_V tenses, presses her lips together. A hand unconsciously moves to her lips, thumb pressing between her teeth. An old, awful habit. Panam moves her hand to gently take V’s in her own, stopping V before she could ruin her nails further. “Hey,” Panam’s voice is soft, free of judgement, “I can tell you’re fighting something up there, V. You do not have to fight it alone.”_

_“It’s…” Her throat is suddenly parched, and every atom in her body is screaming at her to lie. To deflect, distract, find an excuse. Argue, make Panam hate her._

_Can’t. Shouldn’t, more importantly. Regardless of her (loose) morals, her mind blanks. And before she can stop it, the truth spills from her lips._

_“I’m scared,” V chokes out, squeezing Panam’s hand. “Terrified that one day, I’ll wake up and the jig’ll be up. That this is all just some elaborate fantasy, because I-I’m not used to this… family thing. I love helping the tribe. Love the people here, but the-there’s-it’s not… it doesn’t fit. Right. With me. I trust the people here with-as much as I can, but…” she shakes her head, squeezing her eyes shut. “‘Saka really fucked me up, Pan.”_

_A moment passes, V waiting for Panam to snap at her, tell her how stupid she is. Her hands shake, tremble even though she wills them not to, because this is Panam._

_Panam, who listens to V and tries to understand her, who always knows what to say and what to do to lighten up V’s mood. Panam who won’t be mad, who will ask what she can do to make V feel better._

_“V,” she starts, softly, calm, “I promise you that this isn’t some elaborate scheme. That this is real, and the Aldecaldos love you as if you’ve always been a part of the family. You’ve done so much for us and never asked for anything in return.” Panam places her other hand overtop of V’s, squeezes, and V finally looks up at her._

_And there’s so much in Panam’s eyes, body glowing in the golden rays of the sunset. Fondness that she can’t admit aloud because she has trouble vocalizing her own emotions sometimes, but V knows._

_She wishes she could say it, too. But—_

—her fear of ruining things with Panam changes into blatant denial of the reality of her feelings. 

Platonic adoration. Yeah, _right._

“I’ll find the right moment to tell her,” V says, and she isn’t confident that it’s the truth. Jackie seems to notice, one eyebrow cocked as he waited for V to elaborate, sound more confident. “Maybe.” Which isn’t more confident, but at least she’s being realistic with herself.

Jackie mutters something in Spanish that V knows is an insult, but she doesn’t call him out. She does feel like a massive fucking idiot. “I won’t force it outta ya, V, but… you don’t tell her, then you’ll regret it. Better sooner than later. I gotta delta, but it’s always nice talkin’ to you, V. _Adiós por ahora.”_

“Yeah. Yeah, until next time,” she rasped, ending the call and falling back onto the side of her Javelina. Unconsciously her hands moved to light another cigarette, a sad attempt at soothing her nerves. Long drags daisy chain into a second cigarette, and she’s starting to feel partial to the idea of a confession to Panam.

Then she actually imagines the scenario and her confidence drops into the depths of Hell. 

How will she even go about it? _Hey, Panam, can I take some time out of your extremely busy schedule to tell you that I’ve maybe liked you as more than a friend since we met about a year ago, but I haven't realized it until now? And I want us to be more than friends, even though I have no idea if you're interested in women like that._

What’s so difficult about saying that to Panam? The answer is obvious, but admitting it is a whole other headache. It’s because her feelings are genuine, they’re _authentic,_ and if she does something that ruins her relationship with Panam, then—

_—”It’s so beautiful out here,” V says, sitting comfortably in a cocoon of blankets in the bed of Panam’s truck, watching the sunrise because Panam finally managed to catch a break and sleep in. She almost always wakes up before the sun, and V managed to beat her friend that one day. “There was a sick kind of beauty in Night City, but…”_

_“...This is different. For you,” Panam finishes for her, fills in the blanks. They’ve started doing that more often for each other. Finishing each others sentences, talking with their eyes, knowing what the other wants or needs without a word spoken. “I would be surprised if you found any familiarity within these long strips of desert. Perhaps you will after a while, but I understand.” She hops up onto the bed with a grunt, and V opens an arm underneath the blanket. Panam smirks, laughs once, before slipping right next to V so naturally it’s as if she’s done it thousands of times. “I have those moments, too.”_

_“Hm?”_

_She takes a moment, nose scrunching, eyebrows furrowing just so. Then it all clicks, and her features relax. “I’ve been with the Aldecaldos all my life. I’ve seen two— almost three decades of these sand dunes, and you shut it,” Panam barks when the corners of V’s lips quirk, but she bites back the comment about Panam’s age. “But even though these sorta scenes are as familiar as the back of my hand, there are still moments where the landscape takes my breath away.”_

_“Really?” V asks, shuffling to look at Panam in a position that didn’t hurt her neck. Their knees brush, the blanket slips from Panam’s shoulders and she lets out a huff before yanking it back over the both of them. “I mean, it makes sense, but even at your age—” V flinches at Panam’s half-glare, stifling her laughter, “—but you really have those moments?”_

_There’s a pause, and V waits. She waits because Panam starts thinking again, eyes drifting to the sunset and she’s golden again, a woman so gorgeous that V’s breath hitches because if there’s one view she’ll never get used to, it’s—_

“V?”

She jumps, elbow hitting her car in a way that makes her arm tingle. _“Shit,”_ she curses, low but full of everything she’d been stewing over in her head for the past few minutes. “Christ, Scorp. You ruined my moment of peace.”

It’s a lie, obviously. Half-truth, maybe. Even after getting to know the veterans, she still thinks that there might be a time where she finally manages to get them to believe her when they catch her knee deep in bullshit.

Scorpion crosses his arms, one eyebrow raised, looking at V and waiting. Waiting for something that she isn’t about to admit aloud, because _Panam is still right over there, and sometimes Scorpion has trouble with controlling the volume of his voice._ So V shakes her head, prays that its enough to keep him at bay, at least for the moment. No questions, only because she has no answers that she’s willing to give.

He nods, but doesn’t budge. A part of V prays that the sand magically moves him away, just to have a semblance of mercy on her, but Scorpion doesn’t move a goddamn inch. He watches, analyzes V and she tries not to squirm, tries not to run away. But she knows that there’s a slim chance that he’ll find out.

It’s a strange ability of his. No matter how much V tries to hide something, Scorpion is always the one to figure it out.

“She’s worried ‘bout you.” And V tries and fails to keep it from showing on her face— the guilt, inner turmoil— and she pulls her cigarette until its at the filter. “Been smokin’ a lot more, recently?”

“Helps me when I’m nervous,” V says, wincing when she sees the look on Scorpion’s face. “It’s nothing, just… Have to work out a few kinks in this machine of mine,” she explains weakly, tapping a finger to her temple before dropping it to her side. “Once I figure things out up here, I’ll be nova.” _No I won’t._

“No, I don’t think you will,” Scorpion voices V’s thoughts, and he places a hand on her shoulder. The metal of his chrome is cold, grounding, and some of the panic building in V’s system dies down, if only temporarily. “Smoke through that pack, you won’t be gettin’ one for the next month. So you either cool your nerves, work your problems out with who you _need_ to,” and V knows that he knows, “or you inconvenience the family when you slip up during recon and we have to carry your body back to camp.” _Back to her,_ words left unsaid that have so much weight that V’s shoulders slump.

She nods, a weak thing in that moment, surrendering herself to whatever fate has in store for her in the short-term. “You and Jackie are both on my ass about it, and I’ve only had it all click for me today,” V sighs, covering her face with her hands. “Wish I could just melt into my car, never leave it.”

“You wanna be a Delamain, be my guest,” Scorpion huffs, and V’s lips twitch into a smile, “but Pan doesn’t have space in her heart for another car. Her Thorn’s the only vehicular, and you’re the only person.”

V pauses at that, ignores the way her heart flutters. “Liar. You and Mitch—”

“Are _different._ You don’t see her cuddlin’ up to us at every moment of free time that she has, do you?” Scorpion waits for an argument that never comes before continuing. “You don’t think you’re all this and then some to Panam, but you’re so much more to her. You helped her when no one else would, just ‘cause you saw someone in need. You’re one of a kind, V.” 

He gives V’s shoulder one last squeeze before leaving her to her thoughts, shoes crunching in the sand as he walks toward the group of veterans who are curled up around a campfire, crackling and bright and warm.

_One of a kind._ V doesn’t think that’s true. Jackie would have helped Panam. Maybe.

_“Cussing out the Queen of Night City in her booth isn’t exactly the smartest way of getting on her good side,” V had said, starting conversation with an unamused, unfamiliar Panam Palmer. “But you had good reason.”_

_That got a reaction, a twitch of her index finger tap-tap-tapping on the bar counter, nails bit to their beds, painted over with black nail polish. Then the reaction disappears just as quickly as it arrived, and Panam is back to cold, frigid, and she barks, “What do you want,” before wrapping a hand around the neck of her beer- Broseph, V notes and catalogues in the back of her head- before tipping it to meet her lips._

_“I understand that a nomad’s vehicle is important to them,” V spoke cautiously, gauging whatever reactions possible from the woman in front of her, “and I want to help you.”_

_Panam takes her sweet time to respond, downing the rest of her beer that V was pretty sure was full about a minute ago. When there’s no more beer left to drink, she sets it back on the bar. “The catch? What d’you want in return?”_

_“Your story, if you’re willing to share,” V tilts her head, smiles in a way that hopefully gets it across that she’s not just trying to make a joke, not fucking around. And that she’s friendly, harmless (enough). “Normally, no one talks to Rogue like that and walks out without something or another happening to ‘em. She likes you.”_

_She snorts, shaking her head incredulously. “You must be joking. That old warhorse doesn’t like anyone that isn’t herself.”_

_And V smiles, because she’s not exactly wrong, but she’s not right, either. “Let me rephrase, then: Rogue thinks that you’re capable. Intelligent, someone who can take care of herself. I can see it, too. To a degree. It’s in the way you carry yourself. Whoever fucked you over has a storm coming, and I want to help you deliver. All I ask is a little piece of who you are, maybe shared over a drink after the job is done. Nothing more.”_

_A beat, then three, and Panam purses her lips. Sighs, pinches the bridge of her nose. Then, finally, she looks at V. Extends a hand. “Fine. I’m Panam.”_

_V takes her hand with a more genuine smile, gives Panam a firm handshake. “A pleasure. I’m V.”_

(Jackie wouldn’t have helped Panam without asking for something greater in return. V gave what she was good at giving— half-truths. Because while she was curious about Panam’s story, who she was, how she came to be in Night City with her Aldecaldo jacket worn proudly on her shoulders, something else had drawn V to the brooding nomad in the Afterlife.)

Call it fate. But if she hadn’t approached Panam that day, then she’d be a lot worse off. Still with Jackie, yes, but Jackie has Misty. Has Mama Welles.

Maybe there is a sense of familiarity in the people of the Aldecaldos. Not one that feels like Jackie, feels like Panam, but feels close enough that she might be able to trust them. A little.

What Scorpion said bounces around in her head, because _one of a kind_ to Panam makes her heart flutter. 

Saul’s truck headlights flash on, and he stands on the bed to gather the attention of the tribe. “Alright, get some rest, everyone! We’ve got an early start tomorrow. V, Scorpion, Carol. First watch.”

V freezes, slowly turns her head to look at the two veterans. Their wolfish grins send a shiver down her spine.

_Uh oh._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> V gets injured in a firefight with some Raffen Shiv, but it's nothing serious. Panam thinks otherwise, and worries over V even though she's seen V go through much worse. While Panam helps V, a certain Scorpion spills a secret to Mitch involving the two. Uh oh!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited this a little bit but I think I'm happy about where it is right now! Thanks for your patience, I'm going to try and update this fic weekly while working on one-shots to keep myself writing. As always, any and all mistakes are my own, and thank you for reading!

V's realization of her feelings for Panam doesn't change their relationship in the slightest, which is fortunate. Not like she could stay away from Panam even if she wanted to. She's V's best friend, and the chief of the Aldecaldos alongside Saul. So there's no use trying to avoid her.

They still hug and share their little moments together: The early morning coffee for when they're awake long before the sun, shoulders brushing while they look up at the sky and make out whatever stars they can in the inky darkness. The late nights where V helps Panam brainstorm, or the days where they work together to fix whatever's wrong with the Basilisk.

Alternatively, when they're piloting the Basilisk together. That's a little more risky, since V has to watch what she's thinking, can't think about how much she loves Panam or the warm feeling in her chest might affect Panam, too. So she takes her years of being with Arasaka and puts them to work, bottling up every feeling that might put her in danger and putting them far, far away for when she's not in a enclosed space with the woman she's in love with. And when she is alone she wonders how she never realized that she'd loved Panam so much before now.

Finally, when they're in a firefight, they still work together as one to push back any Raffen Shiv ambushes. Like they are now. They watch each other's backs, though Panam also covers the rest of the tribe. And they both know that V is a walking fortress, with her shotgun and her mantis blades, a tornado of crimson and silver. That if she gets hit—

Something hits V's shoulder, nicks her leg, and she silently corrects that if to _when._ But she doesn't stop moving because that would equal her being pelted further with bullets. So she runs, yanks her revolver out of its holster and fires at the Shiv who shot her. She sees the bullet embed itself in the center of their forehead, and she moves forward, continues killing. Blood spatters against her clothes and drips down her mantis blades when she jumps forward and impales a Shiv in the throat, and they're choking on their own blood.

She kicks them away with enough force that she feels the sickening crack of their ribs underneath her boots. V jumps to another, slices of their arm once she's in close quarters, and they scream. It's drowned by the gunfire, by other screams, by the turrets in some of their vehicles. 

V is a whirlwind. Unstoppable. A _haboob._

She grins something wicked, reloads her shotgun, and ducks when someone screams at her to duck. She averts her eyes when she sees the grenade fly overhead. Ears ringing, blood pumping, but she feels no pain. The Berserk modification does that to her.

A bulky Shiv runs toward her with a serrated blade and she shoots them in the leg. Blows their leg off. Takes their blade from their hands and shoves it into the center of their chest, impales and kills. She moves on.

Hears the _fwip_ of a bullet behind her, hears a muffled grunt and someone falling. She spins to see that Panam was covering her. She gives her a quick nod before turning, sprinting toward her next target, mantis blades unsheathed and glowing, crackling with electricity and temperatures that are unkind to human flesh.

She kills more, and eventually even the sound of battle dies off. She fires the last bullet at the last Shiv, and their head splats against the cracked highway. The Aldecaldos cheer because they had no casualties, but V doesn’t join in their celebration. Instead, she makes sure that there is no one else in the surrounding area that might harm them. No hidden snipers, no Shiv waiting for an opportunity at just the right time. Because V won’t let that happen. Not to the people that are important to her.

V checks once, twice, and on the third time Saul calls to her, orders her to come back. She falters, because _what if I missed something dangerous,_ even though she used the thermal sensors in her Kiroshi optics to make sure. Then Panam jogs up to her, eyes full of concern— why concern?— and then the sting in her shoulder reminds her that—

“V! You’re injured,” Panam breathes, brows knit together as she looks at the wound still bleeding, dyeing her shirt a dark red. “Come on, we don’t need you passing out on us.” It sounds like an order, but Panam is too worried, too anxious to sound so tough.

But V doesn’t budge. _I don’t want to risk any of you getting hurt._ “It’s okay. I’ll have someone look at it after I’m finished here,” she translates from her head. 

And apparently that’s the wrong thing to say, because Panam shakes her head, guides V back to camp. Sits her down on a chair in her tent, and says to “Wait here,” before slipping out once more, probably for a first-aid kit. It’s strange. Panam has seen her worse off, so why is she so concerned now? V’s body is tough, bones fortified with titanium and synthflesh. 

Panam returns with a kit, places it on the desk beside V. “Off,” she gestures at V’s shirt, and _that_ is an order. She almost gets it off until she has to move the arm with the bullet embedded in her shoulder, and Panam moves to help without V having to say a word.

There’s something intimate about it, and she can feel Panam’s hands tremble. V looks at her once her shirt is off, asks a question with the way she tilts her head, searches Panam’s eyes for the answer.

“I don’t know.” Panam distracts herself, busies herself by organizing the tools she needs, wills her hands not to tremble because _V is okay, she’s been through worse, it’s just one bullet._ Her eyes flicker to V, topless, her symmetrical tattoos and the blue flowers on her arm. Remembers that V was a solo, broke into Konpeki Plaza with Jackie and never got caught. That V’s been in dozens of firefights, had worse injuries— Panam’s eyes drop to the massive scar peeking from underneath her hip. And all the other scars on her arms.

Scar tissue on synthflesh. They look the same, but V always used to look at them with such sorrow. Sometimes she still does. After they’d saved Saul from the Raffen Shiv warehouse, got drunk on the ancient booze that they found in the cupboards, V looked at the scars on her arms and sobered. Small, precise things, they are. Intentional. From a battle, sure, _definitely_ , but not the kind that gets the adrenaline pumping. Not the kind you have with someone else.

 _Arasaka did many things,_ V told her, _and none of them were ever worth doing._

Panam takes an air hypo, hands it to V. They work together, because V’s pain receptors are fucked to high heaven, so she doesn’t scream when Panam cleans the wound, starts to dig for the bullet. V sits there, tries to stay as relaxed as possible, does _not_ look at what Panam is doing. Twitches, cringes when Panam does get a hold of the bullet, hisses when she takes it out. 

V unclasps her bra (with one hand, Panam notes unconsciously) when she has to dress the wound, hums along to a song she hears when someone starts to play the guitar outside of the tent. “Did I ever tell you about the time I broke into someone’s house to steal Kerry Eurodyne’s guitar?”

Panam continues wrapping V’s wound, trying not to dwell on how close they were, especially when the bandages wrap around V’s chest. “Tell me.”

“They were a psychofan of Samurai. Had posters from pretty much all of their gigs. Antiques, even had a collection of vinyls in a fancy shelving unit. Stole the guitar and turns out the one who wanted it was Eurodyne, himself. I delivered it, and he actually played a song for me. I played one for him, too.”

“You play guitar?” Panam asks, fastening the dressing.

“Not as well as Cassidy. My…” Something crosses V’s features, but it’s gone before Panam can discern what it means. “I learned when I was a kid. Piano, too. Singing lessons. The basics for a kid in _Charter Hill,”_ she sneers. “At least my parents were friends with Mama Welles. Jackie was the reason I got through my childhood without…” she trails off, fingers dragging over the slivers of scar tissue on her wrists.

 _Another reason to thank Jackie,_ Panam thinks, before kneeling in front of V, gently taking her hands in her own. “What happened after you played a song for Kerry?”

V comes back from her thoughts, focusing on Panam with a fond smile. “He gave me some tips. Told me some memorable stories, then sent me off. Tried to at least, but I saw the condensation on his pistol, when he opened the door for me. Just got out of the shower, no maids in his place. I stayed for a while, longer than I needed to. Eventually, he told me, thanked me, said that it’d been a while since someone cared without wanting anything in return.”

That got a smile out of Panam. “Sounds awfully familiar.”

“Does it?” The question is genuine, and V’s head is tilted. She turns, adjusts to hear the guitar better. They’re silent, revelling in the company of one another, regardless of the circumstances that got them there. Then, “Jackie told me something a few weeks back. Told me about how Arasaka changed me, stole my soul. And how I’m slowly getting it back.” A beat. “Said that you helped a lot in that regard. I’m starting to see what he meant.”

Panam’s stomach does a flip, because V is a goddess in that moment. A deity of war, of beauty, blood that isn’t hers dried on her skin, but she is still graceful in a way that makes Panam’s heart do somersaults. The sun is still high in the sky, and the light peeking through the tent highlights her jawline, her grey eyes. Her cybernetics, metal peeking through synthflesh.

“How so?” She manages to reply, and it’s so quiet that Panam thinks that V doesn’t even hear her say it because she doesn’t even twitch, eyes don’t break away from the flaps of the tent. But she squeezes Panam’s hands, so soft, so serene, even with a bullet wound in her shoulder.

“Arasaka destroyed me in ways I’ve never spoken aloud, probably never will. They took me and shattered who I was into pieces, forced me to fit into the mold of what they needed of me, and I complied. For eight years, I let myself hurt. Drown in anguish, in regret of the things I did all for a meager sum of eddies. When I… left, I didn’t know what to do, who I was supposed to be. I was lost, even with Jackie guiding me through gigs. Eventually I was able to put some of the pieces back together.” V falters, voice cracks. 

Then, so softly she speaks again, “You’ve managed to do something that I haven’t been able to do for the past two years. You make me feel whole again.”

And _oh,_ how Panam’s body halts in its functions. Her breath hitches, heart skips a beat. Feels as if her brain short circuits, because V is sweet, but never _this_ sweet. “V,” she’s breathless, throat itching, mind wishing to confess the same. Longs to vocalize what V means to her, hold her tightly and never leave her side.

Instead, she says, “I’m glad. I’m _so_ glad that I’ve been able to help you,” patching the cracks so that she doesn’t slip up. So the dam doesn’t break, so she doesn’t confess. _You’ve done the same for me, you helped me when no one else would, you are my safe space, my home—_

“I am, too.” Then V moves, and Panam stands to help her up. She wobbles slightly, leans against Panam for extra support, shakes the dizziness from her head. Looks at her blood-stained shirt and frowns, because, “I liked that shirt.”

Panam laughs quietly before taking off her Aldecaldo jacket and carefully placing it over V’s shoulders. She’s taller but lithe, so it still does the job. Covers the parts that need covered. “You gonna be alright?”

V hums, takes a moment to think. “Should get something to eat, something to drink. You’ve done plenty for me, chief,” she says, and she very carefully pulls her arms through the sleeves of Panam’s jacket, zips it up. “I’ll find you later and give this back. If I don’t knock out,” her words tapering off into a yawn. 

_Or you could sleep here,_ Panam wants to reply. “Alright. I’ll help you change the dressing tomorrow. Don’t jostle it.” Her tone is firm as she walks out of her tent with V, mind screaming _stay, stay with me just a while longer,_ but she has her duties as chief to fulfil, and her moments with V are just that— precious moments in time.

They separate, and V beelines toward her tent, tries to stay calm but her mind is racing. She’s made progress, _important_ progress, but it isn’t enough to get through to Panam. They’re still fine, relationship unharmed, unchanged. She can still be close to Panam, but—

—but she wants to be _closer._ That want burns her, scathes her to the point where she wishes she can just tear her heart out, because it _aches_ . It aches so much that when V enters her tent. She closes it all the way to the bottom and collapses onto her bed, bullet wound be damned because _fuck,_ it hurts to be in love.

Hurts to love someone so close to you. Hurts to have an unfaltering adoration for them, to find everything they do endearing. Hurts to watch them so closely, notice their small habits and remember them for everything they are. 

V sheds no tears because she has nothing to grieve over. She’s lost nothing, but it feels like the world is trying to pull her into its core. Like there’s something she _should_ be grieving about, but there isn’t. Still, she pulls Panam’s jacket closer, nuzzles her head into her arms and tries not to think about who her heart longs for.

* * *

Two hours later, she hears someone _tap tap_ _tap_ on the entrance of her tent, they unzip it and V doesn’t move. “I’ll leave your food on your desk,” and it’s Mitch, he’s worried and it’s so obvious in his voice. He wants to say something but refrains, but V doesn’t know why. “Did she get the bullet outta ya?”

“Yes,” and V pushes herself up with her good arm, winces when the dull ache in her shoulder turns into a sharp pain when she moves it wrong. She leans over and grabs the plate of still steaming food, glances at Mitch who hasn’t left. “Everything alright?”

“I should be the one asking you that,” he says almost immediately, watching the way V’s arm shakes as she handles the tray of food. “Want me to tell her that you’re a lot worse off than you made her think? Where else were you hit?”

V sighs, because of _course_ Mitch notices. “Nowhere that the air hypo that Pan gave me can’t handle.” Her leg still stings a little. She takes a bite of food. Feels Mitch’s disapproval from the way he’s looking at her. “Don’t bother her just because I ain’t preem right now. I got shot in the shoulder, what do you expect?”

“I expect you to tell me what’s goin’ on ‘tween you two,” Mitch says, and V groans, silverware clanking against her plate. “Scorpion’s been smilin’ about somethin’ ever since he saw you and Panam go into her tent. Won’t say a word to me, but I’m worried.”

She doesn’t respond for a moment, contemplating the pros and cons of each choice she can make. “Scorpion’s just blowing it out of proportion. Things between Panam and I are good. Nothing that’s worth worrying your shiny head over,” she jabs, grinning when Mitch shakes his head and chuckles. “But, really, we’re fine. We’ll get things figured out.” _Hopefully._

Mitch nods, satisfied with her answer. “Alright, I’ll leave you to it. But… V,” she perks up, notices that he’s looking at her jacket— _Panam’s_ jacket, she remembers, and the puzzle quickly puts itself together, “take care of her, alright?”

And she stands so quickly, food still in hand, “Waitwait _wait,_ you’re misunderstanding— Panam and I, we aren’t— we are _not_ an item. She just let me borrow her jacket because I didn’t have mine, and my shirt was ruined, and now that you’ve reminded me I should _really_ return it to her—”

V can tell that Mitch’s trying to hold back his laughter when he interrupts her, _“Jesus,_ V, relax. Take a breath. He said you’d freak out if I came in here and started askin’ questions, but I didn’t believe him.”

“He? Which he?” And V hears the beginning of Scorpion’s name and she sees red, feels the rage bubbling in her gut, but she doesn’t show it. Instead she carefully places her plate down on her desk, gives Mitch— who looks like he’s questioning all of his life decisions up to this point— a smile before slipping out of her tent.

The smile stays on her lips when she asks Ellie where Scorpion is, and she points at the large tent where the Basilisk is. The thank you is genuine, and her body feels so light when she makes her way over to the tent, ignores Mitch calling out to her, locks on to Scorpion leaning against the side of the Basilisk, watches how he chuckles about something, turns when he hears footsteps—

—And the terror on his face when he meets V’s eye makes getting up worthwhile. But she’s _so_ close to getting at him, she picks up her pace and is _so_ ready to deck him in the gut—

But someone steps between them, green one-piece and tanned skin and _oh._

It’s Panam.

“Pan,” she says it so lovingly, but her eyes are full of venom pointed at a certain someone, “step aside, please. I have _business_ with the dead-man-walking,” V explains, pointing at Scorpion with a smile. 

There’s a standstill because Panam wants to know what’s going on— why V is on the warpath and why Scorpion is the one she wants zeroed. But neither of them speak, neither of them explain. “So, no one’s gonna tell me what’s happening here.”

Scorpion’s face is pale. He takes a step back and V tries to follow, but Panam is still in her way. She places a hand on V’s chest, which only ignites V’s want to bash Scorpion into the sand. He speaks as if he can see the many different ways that V is imagining how to hurt him, “Panam, I will pay you to protect me until she calms down—”

“I’ll pay you double,” V interjects coolly, “Triple, even, to let me have him. Breaking into Konpeki Plaza paid well,” she hums, eyes never leaving Scorpion’s frame. The glint of his cybernetics in the lamp over their heads. The way his throat bobs because he knows by the tone of V’s voice that she isn’t fucking around. 

“If I apologize, can I get out of here with all my limbs attached?” A beat. V cocks an eyebrow. _“Alright._ I’m sorry for telling Mitch. I thought it would be funny.”

“I guess it’d also be funny if I ripped both your arms off with my bare hands,” V replies, and the hand on her chest twitches. She took a moment to add, albeit hesitantly, “I’m joking. I know my limits. Who else have you told?”

He winces, avoids V’s gaze. “I mighta… let it slip to the rest of the vets.”

Panam has to place her other hand on V’s waist, fingers brushing against bare skin, thumb hooking in the belt loops of V’s pants so she doesn’t somehow vault over her to get at Scorpion. “I should sew your fucking lips together, Scorp. Maybe then you’ll learn your lesson.”

“Alright,” Panam speaks up before Scorpion can dig himself any deeper into the ground, “I still don’t know what the fuck is going on here, but Scorpion, we’ll talk later. Preferably when you haven’t earned the ire of the Aldecaldo’s haboob. So leave, please.”

Scorpion nods at Panam and deltas the fuck out of there, and V turns, watches him go with a slight frown. “I could run after him. You wouldn’t be able to catch me.”

“You’re right. But you won’t.” Panam says it so casually, and V convinces herself that, yes, she _won’t_ inflict a not-so-kind injury on Scorpion. Injuries, plural.

She pulls away, and she sits on a nearby crate with a huff. V’s still seething and Panam leans over, takes a beer from the desk next to V and hands it to her. “Was mine, but you need it more than I do,” she explains why it’s already opened, but V’s already moving it up to her lips, downs it all in one go. Sighs, because beer isn’t strong enough to get her drunk or even tipsy, but it’s the thought that counts. 

Hopefully Scorpion _does_ learn his lesson after this— just because he has the knowledge of something doesn’t mean he should share it. She’s not as close to the other vets as she is Scorpion ans Mitch, but if they know about her feelings for Panam, then V prays that they know better, to keep the information to themselves. Or V would repeat history, and Panam wouldn’t always be there to stop her from tearing an Aldecaldo a new one.

And maybe she’s overreacting, maybe she shouldn’t be that mad because she’s already so obvious about her feelings for Panam, that she’s the only person holding herself back from a confession. From being more than just friends with her.

“Thought you were resting?” Panam asks, pulling a chair over and sitting across from V. She lifts her legs and crosses them while resting her feet on the empty part of the crate beside V, nudging her slightly because she doesn’t react, doesn’t respond.

She thinks, tries to think of an explanation because she’s already hiding a secret from Panam, and there are so many suspicious things that she’s done in the past few minutes. Doesn’t want to mention Mitch’s name because Panam might ask him about what’s going on, and he’s just as bad at keeping his mouth shut, _especially_ when it comes to Panam. 

“I was,” is all she responds with, avoiding Panam’s gaze. “And then I got up.”

“Shit,” Panam drawls, “And here I thought I was just an extra in this wacky dream of yours, V.”

“You’d never be an extra,” V interjects with a shake of her head. “You’re too important to me to have that kind of role.” She says it without thinking, tries to speak another truth to make up for what she’s lying about. _Distract her._

It works, and Panam rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “The things you say, I swear. I don’t know how you come up with them.”

V laughs, doesn’t let the discomfort show when her wound flares up. _Don’t worry her._ “My head’s an interesting place. Though Jackie’s helped a lot with the sweet-talking.”

“Is that what you’re doing.” Not a question, but Panam’s obviously amused through her sarcasm, arms crossed as she looks at V. “You seem like a natural, with the way you talk to me half the time.” 

Part of V wants to flirt more, wants to see Panam fluster and falter, but she reigns it back. Self-control has never been one of her strong suits, but today she will hold strong. “Jackie’s a good teacher, though he used to be so much different when he was younger. An introverted young boy who used to be scared of me.” _Because I was a Charter Hill girl, and he was from Heywood._

“Obviously that changed. Though it surprises me that he used to be shy. When we met, he was the life of the party. Though the circumstances could have been better,” Panam mutters, and V can’t help but chuckle, her hand unconsciously brushing over the scar tissue on her hip.

“Yeah. At least Jackie loves you, now. Just took a little bit of a heart attack to have the two of you meet,” V tries at a joke, and it at least gets Panam’s lips to quirk for a second. But just as quickly as it’s there, it’s gone.

“It was a lot more than a heart attack, V.” And there’s… a lot to unpack in those words, but Panam’s right. 

There’s an apology at the tip of V’s tongue, but she doesn’t act on it because she knows that Panam won’t like it. That she’ll ask V why she’s the one apologizing, that it wasn’t her fault that she almost died. 

So V settles on a quiet, “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: A flashback to how V got the massive scar on her hip, which is also how Panam and Jackie met! I hope you see the similarities to a certain event from the actual canon story line, because I wanted to incorporate it somehow. Also I just really wanted to add more into this story that involves Jackie and Panam interacting, because y'all know that if they met in canon they'd get along great. Until next time!


	3. Flashback

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A call at the asscrack of dawn. Panic, and the blossoming of a new friendship through one of the scariest moments in Panam's life. All because of one stupid mercenary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm uploading this chapter a day early because I have something(s) that I'm uploading tomorrow for Valentine's day! Hopefully I finish what I want to upload by today, then I'll make edits tomorrow and they'll be up and out and ready for y'all to read.  
> On that note, hope you enjoy reading this chapter! There are a few parts that I think are a little janky but I genuinely have no idea how to fix them. Soooo. Y'all're just gonna have to take it as it is.

A call rings from where her phone is on her desk, cutting through the silence of the night. Panam groans, rolling. She knows it’s way too early for her first alarm, and whoever is calling her is going to get a fucking earful.

But it’s V. She wouldn’t call Panam in the middle of the night for nothing. Hopefully. So she answers with, “V? You better have a good reason wanting me up this early.” Late. Whatever. Her voice is low, gravelly from sleep. V doesn’t answer. “I swear to God, if you butt-dialed me—”

“Shit, you fucking  _ idiot,” _ and that’s not V. “You called your nomad pal? The fuck’s she supposed to do, drive from the fuckin’ Badlands to stitch you back together?! Call Viktor! Better yet, _ I _ will. Gimme your phone,  _ pendeja—” _

“No,” V’s voice is so quiet, so weak, so not the V that she knows and admires. Panam hears her cough, and it sounds wet. “No, lemme talk to ‘er, Jack.”

“Save your strength. You’re losin’ too much blood to talk to anyone. We’re almost to Vik’s, don’t you dare close your fuckin’ eyes, Val. I ain’t lettin’ you die before me,” he responds, his voice cracks, and Panam’s stomach drops because  _ what did he just say?  _ There’s silence, then, “Man, I wish we coulda met during better circumstances, but, uh… Panam, right?”

Panam stands so abruptly, grabbing her jacket from the back of her desk chair. “You must be Jackie. I’m on my way, I know where the ripper is. Be there in an hour,  _ tops.” _ She’s a whirlwind after the call ends, grabbing the key to her truck, sending a text to Saul that he’ll see in a couple of hours explaining where she’s gone, that she’ll be in touch. A text to Scorpion telling him to water her cactus if the soil is dry, and to soak the water thoroughly if he can. Then she’s on the road.

She doesn’t even turn on the radio, doesn’t care about how fast she’s speeding down roads, how the desert is passing her so quickly. She doesn’t look at her speedometer because it doesn’t matter, not right now. Her thoughts are full of roadmaps, shortcuts, the quickest route that gets her to Watson is two hours  _ if  _ she adheres the laws of the road, but the laws have no weight if V’s in danger. 

So she pushes her Thorn to the max, engine roaring, tires screeching, until she’s in the city, in Watson. Doesn’t care about cars stopping, honking, because she’s so close to the ripper’s clinic, brakes in front of the esoterica, can’t turn off her car faster before she’s practically throwing herself out of her Thorn, mind on autopilot because there is nothing more important than V.

Panam hears a cat meow, and in the back of her head she remembers pictures of V asleep in the esoterica with a cat on her lap, so peaceful and relaxed and she prays,  _ God, if you’re a merciful higher being, V better be alive or I will find you and wring your fucking neck. _

Not exactly the best prayer, but it’s not something she normally does.

She launches herself down stairs, ignores the homeless people in the back alley and how their gazes burn a hole into her back, shoves open one door and ignores how loud her footsteps are on the concrete because she hears people, hears Jackie, hears a pair of heavy footsteps pacing back and forth and—

Jackie turns to look at her, eyes red and wide. “You did say an hour.”

She looks around the clinic, sees nothing, no V. Only lots of blood on the operation chair, bloodied tools. Her heart stops. “Where…?” No answer comes, and she has to fall onto the wall closest to her so she doesn’t buckle to her knees. There’s a lump in her throat, her blood goes cold. 

“Vik took her. Patched her up as well as she could here before transferrin’ her somewhere else, someplace with better equipment. Gonk took a fuckin blade for me. Serrated,” he put his hand on his leg, marking where the blade got V. Slightly above her knee all the way up to her hip. “Broke a few ribs, punctured a lung. Got hurt  _ bad.” _

Panam says something but she doesn’t hear herself say it. Her ears are ringing, and she slowly slides to the ground. Jackie’s mouth is moving, and Panam only realizes that there’s a third person in the clinic with them, blonde, she’s placing a hand on Jackie’s arm. But none of it matters, because she came for V but she’s not here. 

Her phone rings, and it’s Saul. She manages to get up, leave the room and pace in the hallway outside the clinic. “I’m sorry for leaving without saying anything,” her apology is monotone and dead, “but V is... important to me. I’ll make it up when I return, you can scream at me all you want then. As of right now I don’t know if she’s going to make it. She’s lost a lot of blood.”

A beat. Two. Then Saul sighs, responds, “I understand. V is tough, she’ll make it through, Panam. I can hand over one of my best for a few weeks— I owe her a favor, after all. If anything happens at camp, I’ll inform you as soon as possible. And Panam—” He pauses, and Panam can imagine the look of confliction he has on his face when he adds, “Remember to take care of yourself. Talk soon.”

Saul ends the call before Panam can fit anything in, which is so like him. But she can’t find it in her to be mad, can’t find it in herself to feel  _ anything, _ so she turns and stalks back to the clinic—

Only to bump into Jackie. His arms land on her shoulders so she doesn’t fall. “Whoa, easy,  _ chica. _ You’re ‘bout as stable as a house o’ cards. C’mon, let’s sit you down, Misty’ll get you somethin’ to drink.” He guides Panam to the esoterica, completely calm compared to how he was when Panam first saw him. Jackie even smiles at her before following Misty, turns on the radio to have something fill the silence. 

She blinks and there’s a glass in her hands, condensation on the sides spilling over her fingers. Her tongue tastes booze but her mind is so clear even though she feels like she’s sinking into quicksand. She’s not tipsy, even when the drink burns her throat as she downs the rest of it.

She blinks again and the glass is gone, taken by someone. Panam’s not in the esoterica anymore, she’s in someone’s apartment. Jackie’s cleaning, Misty isn’t anywhere, probably stayed behind to tend to her shop. Did Panam drive here? She checks the time on her phone, ignores the texts from Mitch and others in the tribe, and it’s been four hours since V called her.

_ “Jesus Christ, _ I know V doesn’t come to this place often, but could she at least clean the fuckin’ table? She was better at cleanin’ this place when she first got it,” Jackie curses, picking up old takeout boxes, other pieces of trash, shoving them into a large garbage bag. Panam half listens, because this is V’s apartment and that answers one question. “A lot more organized when she worked for ‘Saka, that’s for sure.”

“How are you so calm?” Panam hears herself ask, but it doesn’t register to her that she’s the one saying it. 

Jackie doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t cringe, doesn’t break down. He just smiles, more to himself than Panam, and continues cleaning as he says, “I’ve known V for all twenty-eight years that she’s been alive. She is a tough gonk, lives out of spite. Sticks it to the man and does whatever the fuck she wants because she’s Valerie-fuckin’-Vance. She ain’t gonna let some scavver fucks kill her. Not her style.”

He’s the first person Panam’s ever heard use V’s full name. She didn’t even know her last name is Vance. “You’re right,” and some of the fog clears from Panam’s head. “She’s a tough one, that’s for sure. The Aldecaldos owe her a lot of favors.”  _ I owe her my life for what she did for me. _

“I’ve heard,” Jackie replies, wiping down the table walking over to where V’s little robot vacuum is, presses the on button and walks back to the couch. “She talks a lot about you nomads. Makes me think she wants to drop everythin’ in the city and join you lot in the Badlands. Might be good for her to get away from the city smog. Deserves a break, maybe for the rest o’ her life.”

Panam considers it, V being in the tribe. An Aldecaldo jacket on her shoulders, overtop one of her turtlenecks that she always wears, because  _ I look good in them, and they’re Militech, so it’s fashion and function _ . She’s not wrong. Every outfit Panam’s seen her in is a good one.

God. Never has Panam cared so much about someone outside of her family. “When do you think Vik’ll bring her back around?” She asks, pushes herself off the wall because her feet are starting to hurt, sits across from Jackie on the cozy couch area.

“No fuckin’ clue. I say he better take his goddamn sweet time, ‘cause better safe than sorry. V’s practically a borg at this point, contrary to how she looks. Very lowkey, but that’s what happens when you have the money for the best mods on the market. I told her not to splurge after we got our money from— well. When we got our money from our Konpeki Plaza gig. A wild ride, that one was. But she still has plenty of cash left over, still workin’ gigs for fixers all over Night City. Can’t sit still for one second, that woman.” Jackie shakes his head, but his smile shows that he holds no ill will toward V.

“But she’s got reinforced bones, thick skin. Surprised that blade even pricked her skin, but that scavver was  _ massive. _ Should try out for the Animals, or, eh. Should’ve. Motherfucker’s dead as a doornail, now.” Jackie pats his pistols sitting in their holsters, chest puffing with pride. Then he slumps. “I shoulda been faster, but her reflexes are no joke. Already in front of me, pushin’ me away while she took the hit. Delta’d right outta there and carried her to my car. But she’ll be fine. If I can live through target practice, she can live through a blade to the leg.”

“Target practice?”

Jackie snorts before telling Panam the story. They go back and forth like that for a while, until the sun is high in the sky and Panam’s eyelids are heavy with exhaustion. Jackie notices, grabs a blanket from V’s closet and hands it to her. She falls asleep on the couch, dreaming of nothing, but the last thought she has before sleep takes her is about V. If she’s okay. 

Panam thinks that if V wasn’t, then she would’ve combusted on the spot.

She’s known V for almost six months and she’s the best thing that’s ever come out of Night City. It’s a fucking miracle that someone so kind was born from the depths of this place, so unforgiving and cold. V’s barely mentioned anything of her past to Panam aside from her work as a solo. There’s the occasional story about Jackie, or a sweet memory from her childhood, but nothing beyond that. The one time she mentioned Arasaka, it was in passing, and she was drunk. She’d probably have to be smashed to spill anything about her previous job.

But V is powerful. An unstoppable force with enough beauty and grace that, when she first sat next to Panam in the Afterlife, she thought that V was a celebrity with the power she exuded. Long hair dyed silver, colorful in the way it reflects light, pale skin, tall and lithe with muscle that her frame doesn’t show. 

Put V in a firefight and she’s a monster, cold and calculating. But she slips up every once in a while. All of her scars tell the stories of her mistakes. Most are from her time at Arasaka, but others are more recent. 

She’s seen V shirtless twice— once when they were at the Sunset Motel and she showered because their fight with Nash was not a clean one, and the second when she was sparring in hand-to-hand combat with Scorpion, haired tied up in a high bun, some wisps of hair slipping and sticking to her skin. Both times Panam had caught herself staring, and both times were branded in her mind.

Maybe it’s something she still needs to work out in her head. Later. It’s what she’s been saying the last four months, and what she’ll continue to say for the following… however long it takes her to force her feelings down.

Because it’s complicated. Always complicated with Panam, even when it doesn’t have to be.

When Panam wakes up, she hears the door hiss open, and she’s pushing herself up and off of the couch. Jackie’s with Misty, and they have food. Misty greets Panam, introduces herself more formally since they didn’t have time their first meeting, then they all sit down and eat together. It’s comfortable, even though she’s just met the two of them, it feels like she’s known them for longer. Maybe because she knows them, and they know her, through V. She’s the piece that connects them.

Jackie gets up when Vik calls him over holo, and suddenly a thick tension fills the room. He paces, nods, absorbs every bit of information if the concentration on his face says anything, then the call ends. He sighs, rubs a hand on the back of his neck. “V’s got a long road to recovery.”

But that’s enough, and Panam slumps into the couch in relief, because V’s  _ alive, _ and she’ll heal, and that’s what matters. A weight is lifted off of her shoulders, and she texts Scorpion, tells him that she’ll be fine, she’ll recover, she’s going to be okay. He responds, saying that he’ll inform Saul and the rest of the clan, because they were worried as well.

_ The Aldecaldos already view her as a part of the family.  _ Panam’s smile widens, and for the first time in those long twenty-four hours, she feels something other than numb. She feels happy.

After another long day, Vik informs Jackie that V won’t be safe to go anywhere for another week. Panam takes this opportunity to go back to the tribe, get out of the city, away from its smog and suffocating buildings. She’s better, stable, but she’s always checking her phone just in case she gets a text from Jackie, or— or V. 

She takes the drive back to Watson after a week, telling Saul that she’ll be back, yes she’ll keep in touch, and  _ yes _ she’ll remember to feed herself while she’s in the city. Panam drives how she normally would and it’s a wonder how she managed to get to Watson in an hour.

Panam parks her Thorn in the garage of the apartment complex, makes her way to the elevator. Jackie said he’s staying in V’s apartment for when she returns, so he can help her with anything she needs. Once she gets to V’s floor, she avoids the strange arms dealer and everyone else until she’s in front of V’s place.

She lifts her hand to ring the door, but it slides open and—

“Shit—!” V falters on her crutches and Jackie catches her, and Panam moves forward too even though she can’t exactly do anything. “My heart can’t get a break, huh. First there’s Jackie passed out on my couch, and now I almost run into… Panam, what’re you doing here?”

Looking up at Jackie doesn’t give her an answer. “You called me,” Panam explained, and she notices the bags under V’s eyes, how her skin is paler than usual and sickly. “When you got hurt.”

V blinks, surprised at the information Panam’s giving her. She tilts her head, looks up and to the side, tries to conjure the memory from her brain. “Vik did say that I might have trouble remembering what happened after I got my leg ripped open. I don’t remember a damn thing,” she chuckles, then turns to look at Jackie. “Why didn’t you tell me she was coming?”

“Slipped my mind,  _ jaina,” _ he shrugs before turning around and heading back into the apartment. “C’mon in, Panam. V wanted to go out and get some grub but I can take myself and get us somethin’ while you’re watchin’ the baby.” V takes one of her crutches and hits Jackie in the back of the leg.  _ “Ow. _ Uh, how ‘bout Italian? I know some good chooms runnin’ a pizza joint not far from here,” he asks, ignoring how V is still jabbing the side of his leg.

“I’m fine with Italian,” Panam replies, watching the scene with a mix of confusion and amusement. V nods as well, ceases her assault on Jackie’s leg, who moves to grab his jacket and card to his car before heading out. 

“You know,” Panam starts after a moment, following V to the cozy couch corner, “I’m surprised you called me. Jackie wasn’t too excited about your choice when it came to phoning a friend, though.”

V nods, staring out the window. “I can imagine. Probably wanted me to call Vik so I didn’t barge in and throw a patient onto the floor like I did last time.”

_ That _ gets Panam’s attention. And V can tell, because she grins at her before looking back out the window, watching an Arasaka AV fly past. “I was blackout drunk and got into a fight with a group of Tyger Claws. They had a netrunner that put a virus in my system, and I barely made it to Vik’s before it was too late. Guess I’ve had a lot of near-death experiences.”

“Comes with the territory, I imagine,” Panam responds, watching V carefully. The dressing around her leg peeks out from underneath her shorts, and is also wrapped all the way around her stomach. Something grabs and twists Panam’s gut, and she blurts, “I was worried. When you called. At first I was pissed because it was late, but then I heard Jackie say that you were losing too much blood ‘n that you might…” She trails off because V gets the idea. “You know. Didn’t want to lose you.”

The corners of V’s lips quirk at that, but there’s so much sadness in her eyes, exhaustion, so many other emotions swirling in her tarnished silver gaze. “Glad you’re here, Pan. I mean it, it— it means a lot to me. That you care.” And of course V looks so stunning even in her weak state, but is she ever really weak? Anyone else would probably take another month to recover from a wound like that, but here V is, a week later and moving around. Probably drugged up on ‘dorphs, but she’s still V. That’s all that matters. 

“I’m glad I’m here, too, V. Jackie made this whole situation a little more bearable. He’s got a lotta faith in you.”

“‘Course he does. He’s like a brother to me. If I die, he dies, vice versa. So I can’t let anything happen to me or him. He’s got Misty, and I’ve— well. I don’t have anyone like that, but I don’t mind.”

“Really?” Panam says it and immediately wishes she could take it back. Pretends that she only asks out of curiosity, and ignores how her heart drops just a little. More than a little, but if she tries not to pay attention to her feelings toward V, then they’ll eventually disappear.

Hopefully.

V laughs nervously, avoids Panam’s gaze. “... I guess it gets a little lonely sometimes,” she mumbles after a minute, and her feelings return tenfold. V rests some of her weight on the armrest of the couch. “But I wouldn’t wanna scare my sweetheart like that. I’d have to know them like I know Jackie— like the back of my hand,” and  _ she’s not elaborating on a specific gender of her partner, _ Panam notes and  _ Jesus, _ how hard is she falling for V?

“Glad to know you’re human like the rest of us,” Panam teases, smirking at V when she half-glares at her. “What?”

“You’re just a brat sometimes,” but she’s smiling and so is Panam. “But you’re a good choom. I  _ guess.” _

“I could say the same to you. I  _ guess,” _ and they both laugh and things are fine.

Because V is fine. And in this moment, that’s all that matters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Back to Panam and V bickering like the lovey-dovey couple that they should be, but they're but just idiots. Also a brief moment of spiciness! Thanks for reading, and until next time!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We return from the flashback to have Panam and V being idiots! More specifically, V being dramatic and Panam whooping her ass (not really, just snapping back to try and put V in her place). Also some light spice because y'all... y'all ain't getting shit for the next few chapters. It only gets worse from here!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short-ish chapter I think (I say, sweating when I look at the 3k words in this chapter) compared to the next two that I've written! I thought it was cute and fluffy and I wanted to give you guys a taste of that before I really tear into what I've been wanting to write for a while (I say, looking at chapters 5 and 6 that've been finished for the past two weeks and sweating even more).  
> Hope you enjoy! Savor the fluff.

V recovered faster than Vik anticipated, and Panam saw her naked on more occasions than she’s comfortable thinking about. But she healed, got a gnarly looking scar, and Jackie got along with Panam, which changed his opinions on nomads for the better. And Panam made another friend in Night City. So, for once, it was all happy endings for everyone involved.

It took her a month to start walking without crutches _._ Got the sutures out, too. Any longer and she would’ve gone insane in her apartment, even with Jackie and Panam visiting, or calling when they couldn’t be there in person. Vik told her _firmly_ that she wasn’t allowed to take any gigs for the next month, but she could at least get some fresh air, do a few light exercises.

She didn’t listen. V went to the Badlands with Panam and did a few gigs for Dakota.

Nothing dangerous, but when V came back to the Aldecaldo camp after a day of not answering any texts or calls, Panam threatened her to tie her up somewhere in camp so she couldn’t leave without saying anything.

V should’ve taken her up on that offer. Maybe then she wouldn’t be terrified of telling Panam that she loves her.

“You and Jackie got along _too_ well for just meeting each other,” V says, distracting herself from certain _thoughts_ that were inappropriate for the situation she was currently in. “He treats you better than he does me.”

“Jealous?” Panam’s smug and it looks good on her, it always does, “I’m just that loveable, V.”

 _If only you knew._ “Sure you are, Pan. Maybe if you believe hard enough, it’ll be true one of these days,” V settles on saying, and she grins when Panam glares at her, bumps her side with her foot. “I’m just telling it how I see it.”

Panam scoffs, but her eyes are sparkling with amusement. “Maybe you shouldn’t say it at all, then. On that note,” she gets up from her chair, puts it back at the desk where it belongs, “you should get back to resting. That shoulder isn’t gonna heal itself while you’re here talking to me, soothing as I am,” she jokes. V rolls her eyes while Panam continues, “and besides, we’re setting out in a couple of days. I need you in tip-top shape.”

“Of course, _doctor,”_ V coos, pushing herself off of the crate with a grunt, puts her right leg down first because that scratch on her left hurts like a bitch, now. _Maybe it’s more than a scratch._ She winces when her shoulder flares up, the effects of the air hypo long gone from her system, and Panam is already on her, eyes full of worry. V lifts a hand, places it on her shoulder. “Hey, hey. I’m nova, it’s just a little sore. I’ll take some meds and sleep like a baby, so don’t look at me like that, okay?” 

“Are you sure? V, if you’re just trying to be tough, then don’t.” Panam searches her eyes and V doesn’t know what she’s looking for. So she shakes her head, looks away. Wonders if this situation would play out different if V was still oblivious to her feelings for Panam. 

Then she feels a finger hook underneath her chin, forces V to look at her. “Pan—”

“Your leg.” _Shit._ V tries to look away again, but Panam is unrelenting. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you still haven’t taken me to dinner first,” V tries to deflect, tries to joke, but Panam isn’t amused. She sighs. “‘Cause I notice how you look at the scar.” She taps the one on her hip, and now Panam is the one caught in headlights. “You look so guilty when you weren’t even there when it happened, and you even _helped_ me when I was recovering! Why?”

“I don’t…” There’s tension, and V doesn’t like it. Never likes it when there’s trouble brewing between her and Panam. Her shoulders slump and she says with a sigh, “Back then, I told you. That I was _terrified_ of losing you, and I still am. Shit, I’m more terrified, really. Because now you’re a part of the tribe, and I’m _chief,_ for _fuck’s_ sake, V! If I _lose_ you…”

The wind leaves V’s sails so quickly, she feels terrible for even starting to be angry. “Hey,” she pulls Panam into a hug, doesn’t care about how it hurts her shoulder. “Hey, come on, Pan. You know I’m tough. You’re not losing me anytime soon.” V rocks them side to side, and her breath hitches when Panam nuzzles her face into the crook of V’s neck. “Gonk.”

“You’re the gonk. Gonk,” Panam exhales, arms wrapped tightly around V, making sure to not touch V’s wounded shoulder. “I _care_ about you, V. Sometimes…” _Sometimes it seems like you don’t understand that._

“I know. I forget how lucky I am to have you, partner,” V presses a kiss to the crown of Panam’s forehead without thinking. It feels so natural, it fits in the situation that they’re in. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, or Jackie, or Judy. Or the tribe. All of it is just too good to be true. Feels like a dream I never want to wake up from,” she murmurs against Panam’s skin, doesn’t notice how she shivers. Or pretends not to notice.

“I can assure you this isn’t a dream. And shut up. You’re a good person, V,” Panam replies, any tension remaining in her body melting when V starts tracing soothing patterns on her back. “Everything you have in your life, you deserve.”

“Do I?” The tone in V’s voice is so unsure that Panam leans back to look at her. Grey eyes swirling with uncertainty. “I kill for a living, Panam. I’ve taken things from so many people, and here I am, travelling the country, free as a bird with you and the tribe. I’m so scared that everything I’ve done in the past will come to bite me in the ass. Hurt the people I love.” _Hurt you._

She doesn’t have to elaborate. Panam tries to swallow the very sudden lump in her throat. “V. We have enough firepower to take on anything that Arasaka, Militech, or Kang Tao try to throw at us. We have the Basilisk. We have you,” she smiles, and V laughs, rolls her eyes. “And if anyone tries to ambush us, we’ll see them miles away. Sure, a few of us might get injured if they’re _careless—”_

“Okay, Jesus Christ, I get it—”

“— but we Aldecaldos are tougher than some Raffen _scum._ The desert isn’t for the weak-willed. Have I convinced you, yet?” Panam asks, and she’s so smug, V wishes she could wipe that smirk off of her lips.

“You have. I mean, I’ve seen the Aldecaldos in action. Shit, I still forget that I’m a _part_ of this family. Goes to show how much Night City rubbed off on me,” V groans, runs a hand through her hair. “A year of riding with you lot, and I still feel ‘Saka’s grubby hands on my conscious.” 

Panam gets that sad puppy look on her face again, and V is already moving to console her, one hand moving to caress her cheek (she’ll think about _that_ later and wonder how fucking gay they can be the next time), the other staying on Panam’s waist because _ow,_ moving it too much is really starting to hurt like a bitch. “I’m fine, bad joke.” _Not really a joke,_ V cringes internally, and maybe it shows a little externally because Panam isn’t convinced. “C’mon. We’ve all got our demons, Pan.”

“Yeah, and you’ve got the goddamn devil riding on your back,” Panam huffs, but relaxes. Softens, because she can’t stay mad at V for long, not when she’s so understanding and— and not _perfect,_ but she’s as close to perfect as anyone from Night City can be. It’s a blessing and a curse. 

A lot of the time, Panam forgets that V used to be corporate. Stone-cold, ruthless, a bitch. When they first met, she saw some of that version of V, glimpses in the way she interacted with people, how she carried herself in areas that are unkind to anyone that isn’t at the top of the foodchain. Gangs hate corpo-rats, and V still had that aura, so they hated V. 

But the woman standing in front of her now is so different from the one she first met. Hardened from years of struggling, adapting to what Night City asked of her, then finally softening when that cancerous place no longer has her in its clutches. She looks so much younger, full of life. But her eyes are full of wisdom that tells anyone with a brain that V isn’t someone you should ever try to fuck with.

That, and the Aldecaldo jacket. Because, unless you’re a dumbass with a deathwish, you don’t fuck with the Aldecaldos. But people still decide to test the waters, thinking they’re above the consequences of their actions (read: Nash Bane, the bastard) and try their luck. Almost always, they end up dead. Other times, they get a fate worse than death.

Aldecaldos. They don’t fuck around.

On that note. “You remember to put anything on under that jacket, or am I not getting it back ‘til tomorrow?”

V shrugs a shoulder, one corner of her lips quirking just so, “I dunno, Pan. There’s something _awfully_ comfy about this jacket,” she drawls, brushing imaginary dust off of it. “Feels pretty snug on me, too.”

“Fuck off,” Panam groans, giving V a half-glare when she smirks, all smug because of their height difference. “But if you like it so much, then keep it for now. I’ll just steal yours. It’ll keep you from smoking, at least.”

That earns a pout, elicits a dramatic huff from V. “But _Pan—”_

She lifts a hand to stop V in her tracks. “Ep ep. Nuh-uh, no whining. If you’re good, then I’ll give them back to you. But right now, you’re being quite the opposite. C’mon, I’ll drag you to your tent if I have to,” Panam says, waving a hand for V to follow. “I might even tuck you in if you ask nicely.”

V snorts, but follows Panam wordlessly. “An Aldecaldo chief tucking me in,” she chuckles after a moment, “I get quite the special treatment here, don’t I?”

“Careful, or I might think of rescinding my offer. Ah— too late,” Panam teases, nudges V’s side. “Now it’s down to a ten percent chance of happening. Shoulda just kept your mouth shut.”

“Oh, you know how hard that is for me,” V shrugs, “This mouth has gotten me into a lot of trouble.”

 _That’s an understatement,_ Panam thinks idly, and the thought likely shows on her face by the way V is looking at her. “I can name multiple occasions that you’ve gotten into a sticky situation all because you couldn’t keep quiet. Some of which I’ve heard from Jackie.”

“Then there’s no need to speak of any of them,” V says too quickly, which she quickly tries to play off as they enter her tent. She turns on the lamp on her desk so they aren’t just talking to each other in the darkness. “Listen, he reminds me plenty of the times I’ve been a gonk, I don’t need you jumping on that trend, too.”

Panam hums and steps around V to grab her jacket that’s hanging on the back of her chair. She traces her hand over the seams, almost forgets that V’s in the room with her as she reminisces the day when V first joined the Aldecaldos, officially. 

They celebrated plenty, had a feast. There was lots of drinking, and V got jostled around by a lot of the older members. Mostly the vets, but they’d taken a liking to her long before V had even considered joining the tribe. Jackie had come with her, same with Judy— who Panam hadn’t met before that.

It was also the day that Panam realized that she was in love with V. 

She’d known, but Panam had avoided acknowledging it like she avoids the city— thinking about it sometimes, but never going near the thought unless she _has_ to. She’d always find her gaze lingering on V, watching her and thinking that everything she does has some sort of beauty to it. 

Not that she still doesn’t do that now, but she does it… _less._

That’s a lie. 

“I’ll be taking this,” Panam states, throwing V’s jacket over her shoulders. She hears V chuckle, and it’s a low, throaty thing that shuts down Panam’s brain. Then she remembers that it only sounds like that because V is tired, and she turns to see that, yes, V is yawning and exhausted and in pain. _Jesus Christ Panam Palmer, learn to fucking relax._ “Actually, before I go. Let me look at your leg, V. Might as well.”

V looks conflicted, eyes flickering to the first aid kit that she always keeps in her tent. Maybe it’s fine, maybe she can just strip in front of Panam like she did earlier and not think a thing about it. _Fat fucking chance,_ but oh, well. “You’re gonna get that guilty look on your face when you see the scar, Pan.”

She sighs and sets V’s jacket back on the chair. “I will, but let me do this. Besides, the Aldecaldos can live without me bossing them around for a little while longer. Need help?” Panam asks when V’s moving to roll the leg of her pants up. She doesn’t wait for an answer, already kneeling and gently pushing V’s hand away as she folds the fabric and pushes it up.

The corner of the scar peeks out from underneath V’s pants. She can tell Panam’s trying not to look at it, but her expression darkens. She pushes up the fabric to where it’s scrunched up above V’s knee. 

Panam looks up at V and gives her a small smile before standing up to get the first aid kit by V’s desk.

Oh, God. She hopes her face isn’t as red as it feels. Shit, her tits were out just a couple of hours ago and she didn’t bat an eye! Maybe it was because of the air hypo, but this is just her _leg._ She feels like such a gonk for getting so embarrassed, but as long as Panam doesn’t comment on it then she’ll be perfectly fine.

“No wonder it’s been bothering you so much,” Panam murmurs, “You haven’t looked at it at all? Not even when you rested earlier?” She asks, and V hangs her head guiltily. “Well, the injury was probably deeper than you thought, so I’ll have to clean it up a little and wrap it up. Damn, V. The next time we get ambushed, you _need_ to be more careful.”

That gets an eyeroll out of V. “And how exactly am I supposed to be more careful when I’m at my best in close quarters?” She argues, winces when Panam starts getting to work. “Not fight? Snipe them from afar?”

“Not fight like a madman until you’re _healed,”_ Panam elaborates, the majority of her focus centered on V’s wound. “Stay close to me or better yet, pilot the Basilisk with me. That’s the safest option.”

V pouts, shakes her head like a child on the verge of a temper tantrum. “But that’s so _tame._ Nothing gets the adrenaline pumping more than being out on the battlefield, being able to see your enemies up close and—”

“And I understand that,” Panam interrupts, “But we’ve been over this, V. I am responsible for the safety of _everyone_ in this tribe, _including_ you. So if that means I have to handcuff you to the inside of the Basilisk to keep you safe, then I’ll find some goddamn handcuffs.” 

V wants to give her a look. A look that says that she certainly wouldn’t mind the handcuffs, and she thinks about saying it aloud. Instead, her dumbass brain makes things worse and she decides on saying, “If I’m getting tied up, I’d prefer silk.”

She presses her lips together, knows that her cheeks are _definitely_ red but she’s trying so hard not to laugh at her idiocy. Her shoulders are shaking and it hurts a little but it’s stupid, this situation. V gets this side of her from Jackie and she knows it, and sometimes it helps get her into the occasional fun time with someone. Other times, _this_ happens.

But her laughter dies so quickly and her throat dries when Panam lifts herself up, is _so_ close that V can smell the gasoline and the smell of the wind and the earth clinging to her skin. She’s divine, taking V’s hand in her own, raising an eyebrow when their eyes meet. “Want to repeat that?”

_Oh._

This is new. 

It’s new and V likes it, so she grins, cheeky and full of confidence that she’ll probably regret later, and she replies, “I’ve been told that I’d look good wrapped up in red.” This is so different from how they were earlier, so soft and caring, but they’ve had moments similar to this in the past. Shameless flirtatious remarks— mostly from V, but Panam would reciprocate if she was drunk enough— with not-so-innocent touches but their love language is physical intimacy.

Panam looks at her for a few seconds more, then she rolls her eyes and pulls away and the moment is gone just as quickly as it’d come. “Your leg is all patched up. Really, V, I don’t know why you didn’t let me look at it if it was that easy. You were just being a baby.”

 _Or I just didn’t want you in a position similar to being in between my legs,_ V retorts silently. “Fine, I was being a big baby. Sue me,” she grumbles, catching the packet of painkillers that Panam tosses at her. “Not going to tuck me in, then?”

“Fuck off,” Panam replies, but it’s affectionate and they both know it. She grabs V’s jacket and stops at the flaps of V’s tent. “Take those painkillers and _rest._ If I see you outside of your tent and searching for Scorp to whoop his ass— which, you still need to tell me about why you’re so pissed off at him— then I will knock you out myself.”

V thinks about bringing back up the handcuffs or the silk, but apparently Panam can read her mind because she adds, “Or I’ll just find a way to tie you up. Can’t exactly find silk in the desert, so I think you’ll just have to settle for less.”

“If they’re the fuzzy kind of handcuffs then I’ll give you bonus points,” V says, wiggling her eyebrows at Panam before laughing. “Alright, I promise I’ll rest, doctor. And you rest, too! You’ve been working yourself too hard, Pan. Get your beauty sleep.”

“I don’t need beauty sleep. Just look at me,” Panam jokes, winking at V. “Alright, good _night,_ V.”

V waves her off, leans over to her desk lamp and turns it off. “Night, Panam.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please imagine both of them very embarrassed after the handcuffs interaction. Panam flustered and cursing at herself for being a big dumb bisexual and V screaming into her pillow. And the vets just being like, "God. Just fucking date already. You idiots."  
> I'll probably come back to this chapter and edit it because I have mixed feelings with it. But eh. Take it. I've already accepted that not all of my work is going to be top notch.  
> Next Chapter: The Angst Train leaves the station! Something goes wrong when V, Scorpion, and Mitch go out on a small recon mission that turns out to have ties to V's worst nightmare. Until next time!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Panam crosses her arms. “I’m not budging on this one, V. You need to take a few more days to recover. We’ve talked about this. And Saul, I don’t know what’s going through your head, but you should know better than to try and send an injured member into a possible danger zone! And even if they use the drone,” she continues when Saul opens his mouth to speak, raises her hand for him to pause, stop in his tracks, “There is no way of telling if they’ll return safely.”
> 
> Ah, the challenge that’s never easy: Changing Panam Palmer’s mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing two multi-chapter fics at once is hard! I'm still getting it done somehow, though. Thank you for all of the comments and kudos that you've been leaving on all of my pieces, even the angstier ones. Feedback is one of the things that inspires me to keep writing and posting these fics on AO3, so please keep them coming!

V’s wound is healed almost all the way when Saul decides that she’s fine enough to get sent on recon, and possibly clearing out a Shiv camp. She’s able to move her arm without too much discomfort, and her leg is fully healed. So when Saul brings it up to her during their meeting— which includes Scorpion, who she’s doing the mission with, and Panam— she has no qualms about it. If anything, she’s excited to get back to doing more risky missions, after staying back to heal for a little over a week. 

She’s perfectly fine with it, but Panam, on the other hand—

_ “Absolutely _ not.” V winces at her tone, but immediately bounces back.

“Pan, I’m  _ fine. _ It’s just recon, and Scorpion’ll be watching my back. The two of us can handle ourselves. Right?” She turns to Scorpion, who nods along. They made up a couple days ago about him slipping V’s little secret, so V was confident that there wouldn’t be any problems when it came to the two of them working together in a firefight.

It won’t be as smooth as she and Panam are, but it’ll get the job done.

Panam crosses her arms. “I’m not budging on this one, V. You need to take a few more days to recover. We’ve talked about this. And Saul, I don’t know what’s going through your head, but you should know better than to try and send an injured member into a possible danger zone! And even if they use the drone,” she continues when Saul opens his mouth to speak, raises her hand for him to pause,  _ stop _ in his tracks, “There is no way of telling if they’ll return safely.”

Ah, the challenge that’s  _ never _ easy: Changing Panam Palmer’s mind. 

Her eyes are aflame underneath the shade of their tent, and Scorpion’s already taken a step back and sighed.  _ No use relying on him for this one, _ V grumbles internally. Her eyes meet Saul’s, who’s on the same page as she is. They’d have to work together if they want to get this into Panam’s stubborn skull.

V’s had her fair share of arguments with Pan, so she knows how hard it is to get her to budge. The rest of the Aldecaldos can say the same, because their chief is about as quiet as a bull in a china shop when she feels strongly about something. All rough edges and sharp tongue, the crossed arms, scowl, and cocked hip. And since this topic is focused on V, she’ll be even more hellbent on keeping her in camp until she’s recovered fully. It’s cute that she’s so worried, but… damn. She looks  _ real _ pissed. 

“Panam, they’ll only be risking their skin if they decide that the Shiv camp is small enough for the two of them to take out,” Saul begins, and V can feel Panam radiating heat from across the table. “If it’s a bigger group then we anticipated, then they’ll return to the camp and we’ll send a bigger group to clear the place out.”

V steps forward and places her hands on the table in front of her, “Scorpion and I are the two best stealth members in the tribe. We won’t get caught. Even if we do, then we’ll take all of them out ourselves.” Panam glowers at her, but V doesn’t budge, either. “Panam,” she softens her tone, “I  _ promise _ to be careful. I’ll stay on comms with you the whole time if it means you let me do this for the tribe.”

There’s a moment where V thinks that Panam’ll actually say yes, with the way she scrunches her nose in thought. Then she shakes her head. “I still disagree. Two people aren’t enough, especially when one is still suffering from an injury.”

“So we’ll add another person, then,” Saul replies. “Who do you recommend?”

V knows where this is going. She sees the slight change in Panam’s posture— how she stands up a little taller— and one corner of her lips quirks when she says, “Me. I’ll go with them.”

And then it’s V’s turn to disagree.  _ “Hell _ no. I’m not about to let you risk your ass for a  _ recon _ mission.”

“Why not? You and I work well together, and if something happens then I can cover you and Scorpion from afar. I see no problem with it,” Panam argues, all of her fiery gaze focused on V now, rather than both her and Saul. 

V pushes her hands off of the table with a huff. “You’re  _ chief. _ I’m confident that we won’t fuck up, but if we do then I’d rather it just be Scorpion and I instead of all three of us. If we’re taking anyone along with us, then I’d prefer Mitch.”

“I am  _ not _ letting the two of you go unless I am going as well,” Panam growls, and she moves past Saul to stand in front of V. “You said it yourself. I am a chief of the Aldecaldos. I have the authority to make it so that I go with you, whether you want me to or not.”

God, she’s such a pain when she’s like this.

“What are you being so stubborn for?”

“I could ask the same of you! Why is it so wrong of me to want to go with you and Scorpion to make sure nothing goes wrong?” Heat, tension. Saul and Scorpion are watching, waiting in case things get too intense. “Saul is chief as well. He can stay back while I go with the two of you. If something happens, then they’ll still have a leader! That is the  _ point _ of having  _ two. Chiefs.” _ She’s so close to V that one step forward could have their fronts pressed together. 

But now is  _ not _ the time to think about that. “You’re underestimating the power you have over the tribe, Panam. Even if Saul stays behind, we’ll have an imbalance. Both of you have equal importance, and—”

Panam’s gaze darkens. “Do  _ not _ continue, V—”

“—and if  _ I’m _ the one that we lose, then nothing will change.”

Maybe she could have worded that better, she muses as Panam tries to launch herself at V, but Saul is already on top of it, hooking his arms underneath Panam’s and yanking her back. Just for good measure, Scorpion steps in front of V, but he looks equally pissed. “Let me knock some sense into her, Saul! ‘Nothing will change,’ what  _ bullshit. _ Everyone in this clan is important, V!  _ Every. Single. One,” _ she snarls, still struggling to get out of Saul’s grip. 

“I understand that,” V replies coolly, and Panam stops trying to fight Saul to glower at her. In the moment, V’s too stubborn to apologize, but she will after the both of them cool down. She always does, or else it claws at her gut, filling her with the heavy weight of guilt. But right now, Panam’s being an ass, and it’s rubbing off on V.

“I find it hard to believe that,” she scoffs. “God, sometimes you are so  _ fucking _ infuriating! Be glad that I can’t slap you across the fucking face right now, V,” she tests Saul’s grip once more, but he doesn’t budge, “or I would make  _ sure _ to leave a mark.”

V’s a wall at this point, expression composed while Panam is her complete opposite, seething and furious. “You’ll be able to hit me all you want when Scorpion and I return.  _ Unharmed, _ and  _ without _ your help,” she says with a level tone, digging her shoe into the sand when she turns around, not caring to wait for Scorpion to follow. 

When it comes to anger, V isn’t one to show it, not like Panam does. Not loud and shrieking, screaming, maybe hitting. V is frigid, she’s cold as ice because losing your composure in Arasaka meant losing your job, maybe even losing your life. So she might start raising her voice when that anger starts to bubble, but when she gets  _ pissed, _ it’s like Hell freezes over. 

Panam’s one of the only people that makes her  _ feel _ so easily. It’s a terrible thing sometimes, but it reminds her that she’s human, not some husk Arasaka tossed to the curb. Not a faulty disappointment, used and abused, then abandoned. She still remembers the day that they’d dropped her, tried to flatline her in Lizzie’s Bar. Nothing but pain, pain,  _ pain— _

_ —She can’t breathe, can barely speak. How much of her body has been replace by ‘Saka tech? Is that why every fiber of her being is burning, from her throat all the way down to her tendons, every nerve on fire? Feels like she’s melting, sweating but dumped in an ice bath all the same, everything all at once.  _

_ Jackie’s watching her, watching the men from Arasaka who aren’t even paying him any mind. Blood’s pumping like a drum in V’s ears and she wants to tear it all apart, wants it to stop but it can’t, it won’t, not if she doesn’t give them the shard. A shaky hand, barely feels like it’s hers but it is, points at the shard on the edge of the table, can barely control a fucking thing. _

_ The suit grins, all white teeth and predatory as he leans over, grabs it like it’s the best goddamn thing he’s ever seen. Probably is, with how much Abernathy’s paying him to do this. _

_ Then he says, “Abernathy’ll probably pay us a pretty penny for getting rid of a rat like you,” and with the amount of pain V’s in, with how much she’s lost in the span of a minute, she wishes he does, wishes he takes that gun hidden underneath his suit and— _

_ Clang  _ goes her revolver on her desk, metal scraping against metal but at least she’s in the moment, now. Scorpion separated from her to get ready, to grab Mitch so they’d get a little less backlash from Panam when they get back. 

V prepares for the mission like clockwork: Put the extra armor on overtop her already reinforced clothes, holster her revolver on her weak side, make sure she brings enough ammo that’ll last her in a firefight. Grab her jacket—

Not  _ her _ jacket, she remembers. Panam’s, because they still haven’t switched after a week and three-four days. V’s not exactly keeping count, the days blur together every once in a while so she makes a guesstimate. She grabs it though, puts it on and smiles because it still kind of smells like Panam. Then she shakes her head, remembers that she’s getting ready for an important recon mission, and moves to grab her shotgun and slings that over her shoulders.

The rest of what she needs is in her Javelina, so she does a once-over then slips out of her tent. She hears the engine of Scorpion’s car close to where she’s parked, and finds both him and Mitch making sure that they have everything they need. “Good to go, gentlemen?”

“You  _ sure _ you don’t want to apologize to Panam before we head out?” Scorpion says, and V has to suppress the sudden urge to roll her eyes. “Just sayin’, V. She doesn’t normally get that pissed with people in the clan.”

_ I’m not most people, _ she wants to say,  _ because Panam made it very obvious that I’m an important part of the tribe, just like everyone else. _ “I’ll apologize when we get back. Need to cool down, maybe take my anger out on a couple of Raffen,” she decides on responding with, goes straight toward her Javelina and opens the driver seat door. 

They connect over their radios, something that V isn’t used to when they could just talk over comms. But they’re on their way to the Raffen Shiv camp. “So you looked at the camp with the drone earlier, correct?” V asks the two driving alongside her.

“Affirmative,” Mitch responds. “Not too big but the equipment they have might give us some trouble. High-tech stuff, looked like they might’ve klepped it from a Militech transport. We’ll check it again with you before we think about tryin’ to start a fight. Think you can handle it if we do?”

V laughs, remembers to click the button so they actually hear her response. “Of course I can. The shoulder’s just a handicap. I still have no idea why she was so nervous about me doing this. She knows I can take care of myself in a fight.”

“That’s just how she shows that she cares about you, V. She’s seen you in trouble before, and now you’re a ‘Caldo. Might not be too obvious to you, but Panam’s got a lot riding on her shoulders, now. Especially since she’s workin’ alongside Saul.” Mitch has that tone that makes him sound like he’s trying to console V. She has no idea why, maybe not yet. 

“And what you said really rubbed her the wrong way, V. If I were her, I’d slap you across the face, too,” Scorpion adds gruffly. “You were lucky that Saul was the one that grabbed her, ‘cause I sure as Hell wasn’t about to.”

Okay, so maybe she did sound like an asshole. Fine. V swerves to avoid hitting a tree, then hits the radio button again, “I know you weren’t, and I’m surprised Saul did. I kind of deserved to get hit, especially…” She trails off.  _ Especially after she told me again about how much I matter to her. Shit, I really need to make it up to her when I get back.  _ “Regardless, let’s focus. We—”

“Hold on. Something’s not right. Brake,” Scorpion interrupts her and V does as she’s told. “The camp should be visible from here, but it isn’t. There isn’t even a trace of Shiv squatting in the area.”

V breathes out a curse. She sees Scorpion leave his vehicle and she quickly follows, cutting off the engine and pushing herself out of the driver seat. “Should we use the drone? Might be able to see where they’ve gone.”

Scorpion purses his lips, then motions for Mitch to leave the car. “I don’t know. There aren’t even signs of tire tracks in the sand. Which shouldn’t be… possible…” He freezes, and V slowly realizes why.

“They have a fucking  _ panzer?” _ V hisses, hauling ass back to her Javelina. “What the fuck are we doing, then? The two of you need to head back to camp,  _ now.” _

“The  _ three _ of us—”

“No, someone needs to search the area. Give me the drone, I’ll take it with me after I search the area, try to find traces of them anywhere. You and Mitch need to delta, warn them about how some Shiv are driving around this area with something that could easily kill the tribe if they aren’t prepared. Trust me on this,” V pleads, and Scorpion doesn’t have the time to think, not when the clan might be in trouble.

He’s already hopping back into his car, muttering swears under his breath. “V, you’d better come back in one piece, or Panam’s not gonna be happy about what I’m lettin’ you do, right now.”

“I’ll be fine,  _ go,” _ V snaps, and she’s sliding over the hood of her Javelina to get to the driver’s seat. She’s driving toward where they said the camp used to be, searching for something,  _ anything. _ Footsteps, abandoned camping gear, a change in the pattern of the sand.

She hits the jackpot when she notices the depressions in the dunes where the engines of their panzer must’ve been, and she tries her damndest to follow them. Curses herself because how could she be so careless, why didn’t she see this possibility when she knows for a fucking fact that she never would’ve thought about Shiv getting ahold of a fucking  _ panzer, _ of all things. She’s still degrading herself as she follows the divots in the dunes, doesn’t care when she probably scratches the paint on her Javelina when she hits a tree— how did they not knock down those trees?

Fortunately the path doesn’t lead her anywhere near the Aldecaldo camp, thank  _ God. _ It does, however, lead V to the middle of the fucking desert when the trail suddenly goes cold. There’s a strange feeling in her gut but the first thing she needs to do is inform the tribe that the mystery panzer wasn’t heading their way.

So she clicks the radio on again, on the secure connection to Scorpion’s vehicle—

“Well, well. The sly fox is caught in the wolf’s den.” An unfamiliar voice crackles over the radio, and V’s blood goes cold. She looks to the side and sends Scorpion a text, warning him not to follow the trail her vehicle made. Not when there’s three panzers instead of one, and they appear from behind full-camouflage. Manages to send Panam a text as well, then she’s left without a connection.

Shit. This isn’t good. This is the complete opposite of good. She notices that the panzers aren’t Militech, they’re too sleek and dark, and then she sees the red logo and things are even worse.

“We have cut your connection to your companions. Exit your vehicle, or I will forcefully remove you from it.” V thinks of trying to gun it, trying to lead them further away from the tribe’s camp, but the risk is too great. Too many possibilities, too many unknowns. So she cuts the engine and hears a  _ crunch _ that does  _ not _ sound good at all, but she doesn’t have time to think about it. 

V kicks her door open with her foot, hands raised high. Scans the vehicles and they’re fucking blocked but given enough time she can maybe hack into the subroutines of one and unleash a daemon that passes over to the others, short circuit and blast them to smithereens. She might get caught in the explosion but it’s better than leaving them alive, not when they’re here for her. Fuck.

_ “I’m so scared that everything I’ve done in the past will come to bite me in the ass,” _ V had said, _ “Hurt the people I love.” _ And now her past is standing in front of her, all suits and their military tech that could blast her and the tribe to smithereens. Her head is swimming with ideas, hoping that she can find a Hail Mary plan in her brain before it’s too late. 

_ Stall for time.  _ The easiest option. She takes a deep breath, calms the swirling of her thoughts, the trembling of her nerves. “How did you know?” V asks, doesn’t even flinch when one of the bulkier Arasaka guards points their rifle at her. “I’ve been cut off from Arasaka for years, now. What’s the point of trying to get at me, now?”

“We do not need to answer your questions,” one of them— the one in charge— answers. “We are just here to finish a job that should have been completed when you were fired.”

“‘Fired,’” V parrots with a scoff. “I didn’t even get a send-off party. No cards, nothing. Is that always how you fire your employees?”

More rifles pointed at V. She glances at one of the panzers again, works on breaching its security while the man in front of her talks. “Employees that are assigned a job that would have meant the assassination of someone above them. It is quite unfortunate how Mr. Jenkins passed away. Committed suicide, too much stress after you failed to do your job.”

“Right. Because that  _ cunt _ would kill himself,” V muttered, managing to bypass one layer of their security. “What about Abernathy? Saw on the news awhile back that she did the same. She actually kick the bucket, or did you send an executioner after her?” Second layer passed. One more.  _ Keep talking. _

“There was no reason for us to send anyone after Abernathy. She felt too pressured by her job, the atrocities she had to commit to get where she was. She took her own life, and Trauma Team was much too late to the scene to try and save her life,” he says, shaking his head as if he actually felt bad. “But that is enough talking. You will come with me, and I will take you to Arasaka-sama so that you might tell him where the engram is.”

That gives V pause for a moment, but she quickly refocuses on hacking the panzer. “Engram? What are you talking about?”

“In October of the year 2077, you and your companion, Jackie Welles, snuck into Konpeki Plaza under aliases, and successfully broke into Arasaka Yorinobu-dono’s apartment. What you stole was something that is rightfully owned by Saburo Arasaka-sama.”  _ Right, whatever. _ V finally manages to break through the last wall of security, and immediately releases a daemon into their system. “If you return the engram, then I will promise you that we will leave you in one piece.”

V laughs incredulously at that, “Arasaka. Leaving  _ me _ in one piece? I thought you wanted me dead,” she responds, finally having the time to scan who she was talking to.  _ Goro Takemura. _ The name clicks into place almost immediately. “Well, shit. You’re Saburo Arasaka’s bodyguard.”

Takemura’s gaze darkens. “That is Saburo Arasaka- _ sama _ to you,” he snaps, and V rolls her eyes. “He shall be treated with  _ respect—” _

“You work for him, so of course you think he deserves respect,” V interrupts with a dry laugh.  _ Daemon’s making its way to the second panzer. Good progress. _ “You’ve seen what megacorporations are doing to this planet. Or do you not care about what happens here? Fuck, who am I kidding. You’re just going to sit pretty up in the Crystal Palace with the rest of the Arasaka family, watching as you and the rest of the corpos drain this planet of its resources.”

“And what is so wrong with that? You lived in Night City all your life before joining the nomads, did you not?” A twinge of jealousy in his words, a twitch of his finger when he mentions joining the Aldecaldos.  _ Noted. _ “You have seen the disgusting nature of the people who live there. What is worth saving in such a self-destructive place?”

“Really can’t think of a single thing worth saving in NC? Damn, you really are corpo through and through,” V sneers, and  _ daemon has made its way to the third. Good. _ “Not that I can really talk. But even though I left, I still love Night City. Just had something else worth following outside of it. How about you, Takemura? Never thought about what you’ll do after your boss passes away, thinking that he’ll just live on forever instead of having Yorinobu take over? But you have, haven’t you,” she says all smug, cheshire grin on her lips because his eye twitches, left foot shuffles in the sand. 

He almost crosses his arms but stops, and V knows that she’s caught him. 

_ I wasn’t counterintel for no reason, _ she thinks absentmindedly. “I was wrong, then. No  _ real _ blue-blood would even think of joining up with a nomad clan.”

Takemura opens his mouth to retort but in a flash of sparks and fire, the three panzers behind him erupt. The explosion has enough force behind it to throw V back, and she doesn’t even want to know what it does to the Arasaka meatheads standing directly next to them. She’s still blinking the white dots dancing across her vision away when she’s able to stand, and thank fuck her Javelina’s still intact.

She beelines toward her vehicle, prays that it actually turns on and it does after she jams her finger into the ignition button a couple of times. Shifts the gears into reverse and backs way up because  _ was that someone coming toward me from the massive fucking explosion of three panzers, _ doesn’t want to wait and find out so she deltas the fuck out of there.

Retraces her tire tracks but doesn’t actually head back to camp because that would be a death sentence for them, so she keeps going into unfamiliar territory, keeps driving. She prays that her texts really did send because this is a lot worse than V anticipated. She hopes that the next batch of Arasaka cunts sent after her actually go for her instead of the tribe, and as she drives further into the desert without knowing where the fuck she’s actually headed, all she can do is pray that she survives long enough to be able to actually apologize to Panam face-to-face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right... remember what I said about V never interacting with Goro Takemura? *Nervous laughter*  
> Next chapter: Only getting more angsty from here, my friends. This fic is going to be longer than my other multichapter, but hopefully none of you will mind that; after all, this is a slow burn (and I have a lot of other fic ideas in store to keep you sated while these idiots take their sweet time figuring out their feelings for each other). Thanks as always for reading, and until next time!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Panam, are you—”
> 
> “Don’t.” It’s heavy with all of the emotions that she’s trying to not have spill over right now. “V can take care of herself. Right now, we need to focus on the safety of the rest of the clan. She’ll be fine.”
> 
> Maybe if she says it enough, she’ll actually convince herself that she thinks that V will return to them safely. 
> 
> So far, it’s not working. Not at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! God, feels like this week has been a month long, I've been so busy. I don't hate it, though.
> 
> I hope you lot enjoy this chapter!

_ “I’m sorry. Please don’t come after me. I’ll come back eventually, I promise.” _

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid  _ fucking _ idiot. 

Panam should have been more aggressive. More stubborn, more  _ anything _ because of  _ course _ this had to happen when she actually budged. Fuck her feelings for V making her soft, she should’ve just slapped her when she had the chance. If it’d been anyone else then they would’ve gotten hit  _ hard, _ but Panam was scared of V hating her. Scared that she wouldn’t be able to get things back to where they are now, but  _ fuck. _ She should have never even thought of hitting V in the first place, because that’s not only a terrible thing to do, but—

_ Shit, _ now she’s gone. Gone to  _ fuck _ knows where. And what the Hell happened for her to text Panam and tell her not to come after her? Something bad, definitely. No doubt about it, and Panam just wants to drop everything, drop all of her responsibilities as chief to go out and find her, because  _ fuck _ what V wants— or doesn’t want her to do.

_ “Don’t come after me.” _ What does that entail? Shit,  _ fuck, _ and she’s injured, too! Maybe worse off, now, if whatever or  _ whoever _ got to her. Panam’s mind wanders into darkness, imagining V bloodied and broken, filled with bullets and shrapnel. Broken bones peeking out from dark red flesh and,  _ “Pan, why didn’t you come after me? Why didn’t you save me?” _

She curses, kicks the sand. Shakes her head so hard that the pain in her neck actually helps that imagery go away.  _ Dumbass, _ V can take care of herself. And if she really was in danger, if she thought that she wouldn’t be coming back, then she wouldn’t have said that in her text. Will she return with scratches and scars, a lot more worse for wear than when Panam last saw her? Possibly. But she’ll be alive. 

_ “I’ll come back eventually.” _

How long would she be gone, now? Maybe not forever, but how long did it take for V to finally decide to join the Aldecaldos? Months. And now she would be gone again, for days, weeks, more months. Maybe even years. No way to see if she actually is alive, because when Panam tried to call her, she was sent straight to voicemail. A dead end. The tracking device that every Aldecaldo vehicle has, heavily encrypted and almost as tiny as a grain of rice? Busted, right after V sent Panam that text. Another dead end.

But she said eventually. She’ll come back eventually.

_ Fuck. _

She’s been pacing for ten minutes when Scorpion and Mitch finally return, blood completely drained from their faces and it probably shows on Panam’s, too, because they’re making their way toward her and Saul. Scorpion pulls his phone out and shakily places it on the table in front of them, and Panam manages to stay still for long enough to read the text that V sent him.

_ “NOT SHIV. ARASAKA. DO NOT FOLLOW. THREE PANZERS WITH CAMOUFLAGE TECH. INCREASE SECURITY AROUND CAMP.” _

Arasaka…?

_ Arasaka— _

“Jesus fucking Christ,” is all Panam can manage to say before the majority of her weight is resting on the table in front of her. Mitch is by her side in seconds, eyes full of worry because he  _ knows, _ and that just hurts even more because it reminds Panam of her mistake. Couldn’t tell her, couldn’t muster up the courage to say a damn thing because she thought that she’d just be able to find the right time, but now that time might never come. Her throat is burning but she is  _ not _ about to cry. No fucking way, because V said that she’d come back and she  _ promised. _

V never breaks her promises. Never has, and this one is no different. 

So she manages to bottle up everything in a single breath, and she’s pushing herself up and standing straight because she’s a chief and she needs to stay strong. For as long as V is gone, she’ll keep strong, because that’s what the clan needs her to be. Unwavering and unbreakable, even when they lose someone in the tribe. 

“We’ll keep moving,” Panam chokes out, tries to sound more confident when she continues, “If Arasaka is going after V, then she’s making the right move. If she returned to camp, then she would just be leading them right back to us. And not even we can handle their tech. So we’ll head out at early light tomorrow, and we need to be prepared for a possible ambush. The panzer’ll be able to see through any camouflage, same with the drone. Mitch. Make  _ sure _ that the Basilisk is in top shape before we set out tomorrow. I’ll meet with Carol, tell her the same thing with the drone.”

She’s already moving, ready to ignore the screaming in her head to  _ go after her, chase after her, make sure that she’s okay, _ then a hand wraps around her wrist. “Panam, are you—”

_ “Don’t,” _ and it’s heavy with all of the emotions that she’s trying to  _ not _ have spill over right now. “V can take care of herself. Right now, we need to focus on the safety of the rest of the clan. She’ll be fine.”

Maybe if she says it enough, she’ll actually convince herself that she thinks that V will return to them safely. 

So far, it’s not working. Not at all.

Panam yanks her wrist out of whoevers grip is holding her back, and another part of her reprimands her— _ you should know who you’re talking to, Panam, _ and  _ they know why you’re so upset, Panam.  _ It’s waves fury and anxiety blending into a nauseating mix of dread, and if she distracts herself for long enough, then her current hypothesis is that she can just find that gray area of numbness.

Might take a couple of Brosephs to get her there, then that thought takes her back to when she first met V. The Afterlife, V’s smile glimmering with the cunning of a fox because she’s intelligent and sly and all of it’s just  _ her. _

_ Stone-cold composure when she’s taking down the Shiv at Rocky Ridge, tough and deadly and Panam doesn’t fire a single fucking shot because V is practically made to be enveloped in the darkness of the night, made for the silence and death because all of the Shiv are down and V’s walking out of the bar with a pleased smirk, the card to Panam’s Thorn in hand. _

_ “Remind me to never get on your bad side,” she’d muttered over the holo, and V chuckles, low and breathy because of course the adrenaline of a fight like that has her a little winded.  _

_ “I could say the same to you, Panam. Your plan worked like a charm.” They’re not familiar with each other, not yet, so even though she was so warm in the Afterlife, there’s still an edge to words. An iciness that Panam understands, and it makes her think that she’s acting too friendly too soon with someone she barely knows. “But I scanned all of them. None of them were Nash Bane. Isn’t that who you were looking for?” _

Thoughtful even when they were mere acquaintances, V helping her for no other reason than to know more about Panam. It wasn’t a flirt, not shameless and oblivious to what Panam was going through at the time. Calculated, noting every single twitch, every movement unknown to the one who’s actually squirming, falling right into V’s lap. She’s too smart for her own good, really. 

_“Brosephs. Two of ‘em.”_ _The Sunset Motel, staying the night because going anywhere else would be too far, so she wants to celebrate, for what it’s worth. V is sitting next to her, she took off her jacket but blood somehow spattered onto her undershirt, and there’s definitely some specks on her hands._

_ “Glad everything turned out okay,” V starts, and there is some relief in her voice. “Got your car and the merch back. Revenge, too.” Then she looks at Panam, all long lashes and that smug smile, “Think I deserve my end of the bargain, now.” _

_ And there’s something charged in her voice, but maybe Panam’s just imagining it. So she grabs the Broseph that Noah slides her way and drains it. “Alright, fine,” she sighs, leans on the bar slightly. “Spin it.” _

_ “Are you sure you don’t want to make any rules? I feel like asking about the Aldecaldos is a sore spot,” a twinge of concern, perhaps genuine empathy. V still hasn’t taken a sip from her drink. Instead, she’s just tracing her fingers over the labels, letting the tips of her fingers collect the condensation on the sides of the glass bottle. “Although I will admit that it’s what I’m most curious about.” _

_ “Then ask. If I don’t want to answer, then I won’t,” Panam replies, then quickly asks Noah for another beer. “You already heard a little from Scorp and Mitch. I wasn’t getting along with our clan’s leader, so I decided it best that I just leave. The only one I have a rocky relationship with is Saul, our— their chief.” _

_ V hums, peeling off the corner of the label then pressing it back on. “They must love you, then. If the feelings of their leader doesn’t affect their opinion of you.” _

_ Her gaze darkens, her fidgeting stops. Then V grabs her beer and takes a long drink. _

She was thinking of Arasaka, that moment. Arasaka, who abandoned her so quickly, even though she’d done so much for them. Though of course they both know that a megacorporation would never care so much about one of their employees; she was just one small fish in the ocean of Arasaka. Panam is still oblivious to how she’d been fired— she’s pretty sure that when someone gets fired from Arasaka, they don’t leave alive. So V was an exception to that rule. Maybe Jackie knows—

Her heart drops.

Jackie. She needs to call Jackie.

Should she? Fuck, who is she kidding— of  _ course _ she should! Jackie is like a brother to V, if she keeps something like this from him, then what kind of friend would  _ she _ be? To  _ both _ of them, for that matter. 

But that’s for later. 

For now, she needs to go to Carol, then maybe Dakota. After that, she checks on Mitch and how he’s doing with the panzer, and hopefully Scorpion will be there as well. She’ll talk to Cassidy, too, to make sure that he keeps up moral even when V is gone. Finally it’ll be back to Saul to discuss with him who they’re putting on guard duty for the night. She’ll volunteer herself, because she’d be joking herself if she tried to sleep tonight.

Not when she sees V, bloodied and broken and crying out for Panam whenever she closes her eyes. Her nightmares tonight would be vicious. So what better way to avoid them than drowning herself in booze and coffee, which she will probably continue to do until V’s return?

God. This is going to be terrible.

* * *

V finds herself finally parking in the garage of a ghost town when the stars are high in the sky. She doesn’t know how long she’s been driving for, but it’s probably long enough to where Arasaka will have some trouble finding her. Hopefully.

It’s hard to hide where you are when your car leaves tracks in the desert sand, but she’s not exactly looking to hide  _ completely. _ Just enough that when they do follow the tire tracks in the sand, V will have the time to react and ambush them, and then retreat further into the unknown expanse of the desert.

Joy. What a wonderful place and time she’s found herself in.

Even better, she thinks as she stares out the dusty window of the warehouse she’s squatting in, is that there seems to be a storm brewing on the horizon. She can barely see it, but the wall of sand swirling in her direction is telltale enough that she’s about to get stuck in this place for the night. 

Fuck. Not good. Not great at all, really. Nothing about this situation is good. 

Her connections still cut off from the rest of the tribe, and she can’t even send Jackie a text. He can probably feel that something’s gone wrong by now, with that stupid clairvoyance of his. Or maybe Misty’s caught on, does a tarot card reading and  _ uh-oh, V’s in danger out in the desert and we can’t do anything to help her. Better call Panam, and oh! She’s desperate, too! _

Either that, or Panam’s just suppressing every emotion she can think of.  _ Oh, Panam. _ She’s probably worried sick, by now. Or she’s still pissed. Maybe at V, at Mitch and Scorpion, but  _ definitely  _ at herself. She wishes that she could call, but maybe this is for the best. If Arasaka somehow managed to put a bug in her system, or even in her car, then not making contact with anyone she cares about is the best course of action. 

This is the worst. 

She pushes herself off the ground, walks back down to the first floor where her Javelina is. A hand on her revolver at all times, because who knows who the fuck might be lurking in this place. Hopefully no one, she thinks as she moves toward one of the garage doors, double checks that it’s latched and—

Something taps against the door right next to it. Dozens of curses go through her head as she jumps back behind cover, waits patiently for whatever the fuck is hitting that door to lose interest and go away.

One minute passes.  _ Tap tap. _

Four. Still there,  _ tap tap tap tap. _

Six minutes and V’s thinking that it’s just a rat or a stray coyote, something that’s harmless but then that small  _ tap _ turns into a  _ bang _ and all of a sudden there’s a fucking dent in the metal.  _ “Jesus,” _ she hisses, and another loud  _ bang _ on the same spot makes the dent even bigger. She sits there terrified and watching in the dark, trying to calm down the bass drum thumping of her heart in her ears because this is not a normal Shiv. 

It takes another two minutes for whoever’s slamming against the door to finally pierce through the thick metal sheets of the garage door. Two eyes, white and searching, scanning from what the warning in front of V’s eyes tells her. So, no matter what she does, she’s going to be found by Arasaka’s lean, mean, murdering machine. How the fuck did he even manage to follow V in such a short amount of time? She didn’t see any—

Well. If they’re camouflaged, then no shit she wouldn’t be able to see a damn thing. Maybe she can ram him with her Javelina and try to find someplace else to hide while the storm covers her tracks? She also needs to find a working radio tower, since the one here… wasn’t even standing. Fuck,  _ fuck, _ what can she do? Shoot him?

“Come out!” Takemura roars, and V flinches. “You have already killed when this could have been a peaceful compromise. On Arasaka-sama’s honor—”

“Oh, for the love of— Saburo’s  _ honor _ can suck my dick!” V interrupts harshly, unholstering her revolver to fire a few shots at Takemura. “What kind of fucking ‘borg are you, anyway? You followed me all the fucking way out here, and you haven’t even taken me to dinner!”

She sprints toward her Javelina, firing the rest of her magazine at where Takemura was standing. There’s no time to think about what might happen if she gets caught in her Javelina in the middle of this sandstorm. Only what might happen if she gets into a fight with Takemura, which she knows for a damn fact that she won’t win without a few life-threatening wounds. She cannot afford to get injured like that, so the best option is a hit and run.

Takemura blasts the garage door off of its hinges and V’s plan of escaping unscathed flies out the fucking window. His clothes are scorched, flesh marred by the explosion. Yet somehow he’s still standing, still manages to blast a fucking metal garage door and almost hit V in the process. “There is nowhere to escape to!”

Fuck, there’d better be. V’s not about to die by the hands of an angry corpo-cunt. 

V manages to send out a ping quickhack before launching her ass into her Javelina. Prays that she builds enough speed to ram Takemura, or he has the brains to jump out of the way. She slams on the gas and goes straight for her assailant, who doesn’t move.

_ He’s going to stop my car with his fucking hands,  _ V thinks. It’s too late to stop, too late to try and break through the intact garage door, and—

And Takemura jumps onto the hood of V’s Javelina and slams his fist against the glass. Thank fuck for crystal dome tech, because it’s tough as fuck. Takemura’s punch doesn’t even leave any cracks. V decides that, when she gets back to the tribe, she has Dakota to thank for recommending the Javelina to her, because right now her choice is a goddamn blessing.

Even as V hits trees and hits Takemura’s back, the beast of a man doesn’t even flinch. His eyes are locked on to V’s while he still beats his fists against the glass. V tries the daemons in her limited deck, tries swerving to get her unwelcome guest off of her fucking car, but he’s not budging. 

Whether it’s an iron will or the fact that he seems fucking impenetrable, Takemura’s not moving.

So she slams on the brake, makes sure her car is still locked, and cuts the engine. She taps the window to make sure that Takemura can hear her. “Alright. We’re in the middle of the desert, you’re without reinforcements, and you can’t break into my car. You’re wounded, too,” V adds.

“You are a  _ coward,” _ Takemura seethes. V wishes he could see her roll her eyes. “Hiding inside of your vehicle instead of facing me like a true warrior.”

“I don’t know, Takemura. I think I’m a lot better off in this car than out there with you,” V huffs, crosses her arms while she presses her back further into the driver seat. “Listen, how about this— I tell you where that chip went, and you can go fuck off with your Arasaka buddies to whoever  _ actually _ has it. That sounds like it would work for every party involved—”

“I will not leave until you are bleeding and  _ dead _ in the sand,” Takemura responds, lips curling into a sneer, “Or would you rather I send the reinforcements to your nomad tribe?”

_ Well, shit. _ V sighs, running a hand through her hair. “You asked for it,” she mutters, before kicking the driver seat door open. “Alright, fine. You want a fight? I’ll fucking give you one, because no one threatens my family and lives to tell the tale.”

“The smart choice. If you somehow manage to beat me—”

V pulls her shotgun off of her shoulders and fires it at Takemura, who jumps out of the way. “Shut the fuck up. No monologues, no promises that you won’t fucking keep. I beat you, I keep moving, because I’m not about to put my tribe in danger all because of one of my past mistakes.” She fires again, manages to hit Takemura in the arm. “And I hope that Saburo sees your dead body and knows not to fuck with one of the best mercenaries from Night City.”

“I was trained for years to become the strongest bodyguard for Arasaka-sama,” Takemura replies, arms separating to show bright white mantis blades, “I have killed  _ all _ of those who have opposed him. A pathetic desert rat like you does not stand a chance.”

He lunges at V, who quickly rolls to the side and fires another blast from her shotgun. Takemura cuts some of it away with his mantis blades, but some of the shrapnel still cuts his already burnt flesh. “If you were at your best, then maybe I’d die under five seconds, but at least that blast fucked you up,” she mutters. 

Takemura is fast, but V’s reflexes are on the same level. Which, thank God, because she’d probably already be impaled by Takemura’s mantis blades by now. Heat is radiating off of them. V gets nicked and the wound is immediately cauterized, which means that the blades aren’t actually as hot as the white glow entails.

Good. She doesn’t want her flesh to char at the lightest touch.

V goes for another shot, pointblank at his legs. Takemura jumps out of the way,  _ how the fuck is he so fast? _ He pushes himself forward, sand kicks up from behind him.

Sand.  _ The storm. _

Shit.

She ducks when he slices at her head, unsheathes her mantis blades. Blocks his arm and sparks fly when metal crashes against metal. Takemura puts all of his strength into pushing against V, who unholsters her revolver and fires right into his stomach.

He grunts, staggers back. V isn’t about to stop, fires two more shots into his legs. They pierce his skin when they really should be going straight through. “Listen, Takemura, can we table this? Because you might be able to live through a sandstorm, but I won’t,” V blurts out, her gaze focusing on the wall of dust heading their way. “So, while I would love to finish this now, I—”

Takemura launches himself at V again with a roar, one hand holding the wound on his stomach while the other is raised, ready to strike.

_ It’s never that easy, huh. _

He’s weak, his hits don’t have as much snap in them as before. The wind’s starting to pick up. V dodges his slice, wants to ask why he doesn’t have a gun on him. Gets another hit, a deep slice on his arm. He jumps away from V, eyes full of disdain. “You are not using your full strength. If I do not win, then I will die here.”

“What, samurai’s honor?” V drawls, rolling her eyes. “Jesus, that’s so annoying. They really conditioned you in Arasaka, huh? So, what. You  _ want _ me to kill you?”

“If you have strong principles and a code of honor, then you will kill me here,” Takemura replies, going back into his fighting stance. “If you do not, then you are a coward, just as I thought you were.”

V activates her Berserk modification and sprints forward, fast enough that Takemura can’t react in time. He goes for a slice while V kicks his stomach, blocking his blade with her own. He flies back and slides in the sand, clutching his stomach with a grimace.

Sheathing her mantis blades, V smirks down at Takemura. “I couldn’t care less about what an Arasaka  _ dog _ thinks of me. Crawl back to your owner so he can console you over losing against a desert rat.” She turns to walk back to her Javelina, then decides to add, “Oh, and while you’re at it, I’d give up snooping for that engram, or whatever. You won’t be getting it back.”

She hears Takemura curse as she slams her car door, watches him slowly disappear in her rearview mirror as she drives off. 

Yeah, he definitely wouldn’t be getting that chip. Unless he wants to start a war with the Voodoo Boys. When Evelyn offered V the opportunity of fucking DeShawn over, she definitely considered. Even though T-Bug knew him before that, V did a little digging of her own and found out that Dexter made plenty of enemies in Pacifica, where Evelyn planned on selling the chip.

Putting DeShawn in the picture would cause a lot of trouble. So she took him out of it. Not like  _ zeroed, _ more like called Evelyn and told her DeShawn’s plan to meet at the No-Tell Motel, said  _ meet me there, I’ll figure everything out. _

She did, even if that meant T-Bug not talking to her for a couple of months, and Jackie being downright  _ pissed _ that V planned that with Evelyn without telling him. So he was mad at V for a couple of days, but he managed to cool off and the tension between them slipped away easily.

Oh, Jackie. He is not going to let her live this one down. Neither is Panam, or  _ anyone. _

Lord knows what’ll happen if Mama Welles hears about this. She didn’t approve of V’s decision at the beginning, saying that nomads are dangerous, Panam’s being the only exception. That she’ll die in the desert and they’ll never see her again after she leaves.

Fuck. 

V’s not going to let that happen. She’ll last as long as she has to, kill every Arasaka goon that comes her way, because she has a family to return to. Two, really— the Aldecaldos and the Welles’s.

Alright. First order of business: Finding a functional radio tower and contacting the Aldecaldos. Shouldn’t be too hard. There are towns spattered all across the country, and she can just follow the highway to find one. Leaving a message, reassuring them that she’s okay, making  _ some _ sort of contact.

Second: Restocking on supplies. Food, water, the bare necessities. She has the patience to play the world’s longest game of hide and seek with Arasaka. Here’s hoping that they don’t send anyone to the Aldecaldos. Takemura’s out of commission, and as long as they have the Basilisk, the tribe should be able to take care of themselves.

What a shitshow this is turning out to be. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst,,, <3 See y'all next week!

**Author's Note:**

> I really wanted to make a fic that kept everyone alive and happy (read: Jackie Welles deserved better, Evelyn Parker deserved better, T-Bug deserved better, Dexter DeShawn). This means that V never interacts with Goro Takemura, Saburo never came to Konpeki Plaza, and V and Jackie got the moola they were promised for a job well-done. Thank you for reading!


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